Horse Sense and Honor
by GunShy1
Summary: For near 20 years, I wondered what Buck was thinking and this is my attempt to elucidate his thoughts. This story is primarily a MMs and an ATC for Hidalgo, Season 17, Episode 17, Written by Colley Cibber, Directed by Paul Stanley. It also contains significant spoilers for many other episodes. Some are significant.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Notes: I sincerely thank Emmint for providing the inspiration for this story through her imaginative series, _Buck Remembers_ and for giving me permission to expound on her idea. I also thank LilyJack for her encouragement, editorial assistance, and, most importantly, her assurances regarding a story written entirely from the perspective of a horse.

Buck, like me, suffers a bit from ADD so he often has wandering thoughts. Unfortunately, at one point his thoughts meandered forward to an episode that occurs well after Hidalgo. That section of this story is clearly marked and you can skip the marked section without impacting the continuity of the story.

 _I learned why 'out riding alone' is an oxymoron: An equestrian is never alone, is always sensing the other being, the mysterious but also understandable living being that is the horse._ Jane Smiley

Horse Sense and Honor

Chapter 1: Leaving

Buck was a horse and for almost as long as he could remember, Matt Dillon, the U.S. Marshal had been his human. Buck was sensitive to the moods and feelings of all humans, but his perceptiveness went especially deep with Matt. Of course, Buck was well aware that a horse owed obedience to whomever held his reins. Because of that, he knew it wasn't wise to become overly attached to any one rider; control of his reins could change in the blink of an eye. But for now, Matt was his human and had been since he had been a young horse. He hoped that never changed. They had been through a lot together over the years and foolish or not, Buck had developed a deep connection to his rider. Horses had a saying that, "You could best judge a horse by how he treated his rider in hard times." Buck figured he was a pretty good horse; he always did his best to keep Matt safe and get him home. Furthermore, Buck considered himself an exceptional thinker amongst horses and to his thinking, if that saying was true of a horse, the reverse must be true of a rider, "You could best judge a rider by how he treated his horse in hard times." Buck had shared a lot of hard times with Matt and Matt always took care of him as best he could. If Buck was tired, hungry, and thirsty, his human was usually in the same shape or worse.

Just now, Buck patiently followed Festus as they walked down Front Street from the stable to the jail. Buck figured he and Matt would be riding out of town soon. He didn't know yet where he would be heading, but he did have some strong clues that it would be a rough journey. Hank had given him a double ration of grain this morning and Festus had not been his usual cheerful self when he'd come down and saddled him up. As Festus tacked him up, he would usually scratch his ears and pat his side while he chattered away about the goings on in Dodge and complained good-naturedly about whatever errand he and Matt would be undertaking. But today Festus had been all business and Ruth had remained in his stall when Festus led Buck down to the jail. The grain was a treat that told Buck he'd be working hard, no Ruth told him that he and Matt would be traveling alone, and Festus' dour mood told him that Festus either wasn't happy about being left behind or wasn't happy about where Buck and Matt would be going—probably both.

Buck saw Matt standing out in front of the jail and nickered a soft greeting as Festus tossed his reins over the hitching rail. He listened as Festus tried to wheedle the Marshal into letting him tag along, but the Marshal was resolute.

"Festus, we've been through this. They're sending one man, me. That's all the extradition papers allow. Anyway, someone needs to keep an eye on the town."

Festus tried one more time, "Awe foot, Matthew, this just ain't no job for one man by his ownself. I'm a tellin ya, if'n ya go after them yahoos all by your lonesome, you ain't a goin to be comin back atall."

Buck couldn't miss that his human was getting a little short tempered as he responded, "Umhmm. Why don't you ride out to the Risling place and see if you can find out what happened to the two hogs that disappeared from their farm?"

Festus, apparently oblivious to Matt's deteriorating temper, waved his arms in the air, and started to disgustedly argue, "Hogs, Matthew, two hogs? Seems to me a United States Depiddy Marshal oughtn't not to be worried about two hogs when they's more impor….."

"Now," bellowed the Marshal.

Buck watched as Festus gave Matt his best squinty-eyed look before he headed down the boardwalk towards the stable, mumbling under his breath, spurs a jingle jangling.

Buck kind of wished that conversation had ended differently. Festus' non-stop talking was a little annoying, and he was surprised at how his own taciturn human seemed to so easily tolerate all that yakking. Still, Festus was good company for the Marshal and a good man to have around if trouble came calling and from what Festus had just said, trouble was definitely going to come calling. Of course, no one ever asked Buck for his opinion on things. He was pretty sure they didn't even know he had opinions.

Buck watched as Matt pivoted and entered the jail and quickly returned with his bedroll and saddlebags, which he efficiently affixed to his saddle. Buck then expected Matt to go in, pick up whatever else he needed, and come right back out, ready to go. But things didn't happen that way. Matt went back in the jail all right, but before he came back out, Buck watched Kitty march down Front Street, enter the jail, and slam the door in her wake. Buck could dimly make out their silhouettes through the jail window and could clearly hear Kitty's voice raised in anger and Matt's deeper voice trying to no avail to placate her.

Buck knew Matt wouldn't want to leave without making things right between Kitty and him. He eavesdropped as Kitty furiously demanded, "Why aren't you taking Festus…or somebody?"

"Kitty, we talked about this last night," countered Matt defensively. Buck couldn't help but think that one specific Deputy U.S. Marshal was probably lucky he wasn't within Matt's reach just now.

"Yeah Matt, we did, but I think you left out some details like you going alone. I didn't push you last night because I didn't want to ruin the few hours we had together, but I had no idea you were planning to do this alone." She paused and inhaled deeply before plunging on, "And why is it always you that has to go? Dodge is no where near Mexico."

Matt struggled to both commiserate and explain, "I know I've been gone a lot and I'm sorry, but I just have no choice. Mando and his gang have been raiding the border towns for months. They take what they want and slip back across the border to safety in Mexico.

"I get that, Matt," Kitty broke in, "You covered all that last night, but that still doesn't tell me why it has to be you. Why not the Texas Rangers, or one of the lawmen assigned to those border towns?" The frustration was clear in her voice.

"Kitty, Mando is escalating, He's already killed a sheriff, a banker, and a teller, and, on his last raid, he killed a whole family...including two little girls. He's got to be stopped and we finally have an agreement from Mexico letting us go in and get him."

"You're not listening, Matt," an increasingly agitated and distraught Kitty shouted. "I'm not asking why Mando needs to be stopped. I want to know why you're the one that has to do it?"

Buck sidled a little closer to the window, just in time to see Matt, apparently having no reasonable answer, step forward and try to pull his furious lover against his chest. Buck thought that a good strategy as he was well-aware the fiery red head's temper could often be cooled by Matt's physical nearness. But even from his poor vantage point, Buck could see how stiff she was still holding herself, one hand planted firmly on Matt's chest, forcing him to keep his distance.

Matt tried once more to explain, "It's the badge."

Buck groaned. He might just be a horse, but he'd witnessed enough arguments between these two so that even he knew that was the wrong thing to say.

"The badge?" shouted Kitty as she attempted to pull completely free from the Marshal, although his firm grip and large size rendered her efforts fruitless, "I don't give a damn about your badge. You're not the only one to have one of those shiny things you know. Are the rest of them too cowardly or just too smart to go?"

There was a long pause, Kitty remained frozen in Matt's grip until she finally looked up into eyes, let out a loud sigh and collapsed into his arms. "Oh Matt, I'm just…afraid…for you," she sniffled. "Why does it have to be you? And why do you have to go alone?"

Matt ducked his head so it was level with Kitty's ear. His reply was so soft that even Buck with his most excellent hearing was unable to hear them at all through the heavy jail door.

Buck was fully cognizant of the close ties between this woman and his human. He figured he might actually know more about that relationship than anyone except, maybe, Kitty's horse. People never worried much about what a horse heard or saw so they heard and saw plenty. Matt and Kitty liked long rides across the prairie, picnics, and fishing. And while Buck would never tell, not even his closest horse friends, he knew first hand that a lot more than riding, picnicking, and fishing went on during those excursions. Some horses were kind of gossipy, but not him. There was, however, no doubt, the Marshal loved the beautiful saloon woman and she loved him. As always, this special knowledge caused him to feel a twinge of sadness for Matt, who would again have to leave her behind.

Buck shifted his weight uncertainly from one foot to the other. It appeared Mexico was to be their destination. Despite the certain hardships he knew he would face on their impending journey, he was still glad, although not surprised, that Matt chose him for the journey. He wasn't Matt's only horse, but he was Matt's best and most preferred horse. He didn't consider this arrogance, but rather certainty. He had been with Matt a long time. Matt's other horses were replacements acquired when other horses hadn't come home from one of his trips. He hated seeing Matt take out one of those other horses. Oh, they were good horses all right and made for fine stable company, but they lacked the experience and training needed to deal with the dangerous situations this human encountered. Buck was pretty certain Matt agreed. Buck accompanied Matt on most of his trips unless Buck had been ridden hard, or wasn't well, or was injured. Even then, Buck didn't like staying behind. Resting in the cool stable, munching hay all day, and visiting with his stable mates was a nice way to spend his days, but when Matt was gone and he was left behind, he worried like an old mother hen. He knew the other horses mocked him as a worrywart.

He couldn't help but worry, though. There was that time Matt had come back with a badly broken leg and his horse hadn't come home at all. A tired and agitated Chester had galloped up to the stable shouting to anyone that would listen that Mr. Dillon was in powerful bad shape, that he had left him out there on the prairie alone with a prisoner, and that he needed to get Doc to him as quick as possible. Buck had been sad to lose that stable mate, but he hadn't been there long and hadn't seemed like the sharpest tack. Most likely that horse had been careless, and it had cost the horse his life and nearly cost Matt his life as well.

Buck also recollected a time when one of Matt's horses had been shot by a man Matt was chasing. Buck tried real hard to not think about that too often. He especially tried not to think about it when he and Matt were out on the prairie and people were shooting at them. Truth was situations like that got him feeling kind of panicky, but Matt's confident hands on his reins kept him focused. He might never have known what had happened to that horse if he hadn't overhead Chester telling Hank all about it. Before Festus, Chester had been one of Buck's best sources of information.

One thing for certain, his human led a dangerous life and he needed a smart horse that was careful. Buck was that horse, and he was mighty glad it would be him taking Matt into Mexico again…even if he didn't really want to go.

Buck pawed at the ground a bit and watched as Kitty and Matt stepped away from the window. He wondered where Matt was going? They really needed to get started, now. The sooner they left, the sooner they would return. Horses didn't think a lot about the future, but Buck had to admit to a little trepidation about heading down into Mexico again. He'd carried Matt there on several prior occasions. Each trip had been long and perilous. Matt had suffered injuries and, on one occasion, he himself had even been stolen.

He also didn't like the idea of Matt taking on a whole gang alone, especially so far from home. Still, whatever the future brought, he figured that so far he'd been a pretty lucky horse. A horse couldn't have a finer human than he did. Granted Matt had taken him on some hackle-raising adventures, and sometimes he had been awful hungry, and thirsty, and tired to say nothing of scared, but when you got right down to it, adventures were really nothing but danger and deprivation far from home. On the positive side, adventuring really did make for good stories once you were fed, watered, and back in your home stall surrounded by good stable mates.

Sometimes those stable mates gave him a ribbing about having to carry the biggest man in Kansas, but Buck was happy to do it. He was proud he was big enough and strong enough to easily carry Matt anywhere he wanted to go whether it was on official business or a relaxing ride on the prairie with the winsome Kitty Russell. And secretly, he thought that he and the Marshal made quite a fine-looking pair. Buck just felt right with the big human ensconced in the saddle, holding his reins. It was like they fit together, were made for one another.

Patience was usually one of Buck's greatest virtues, but even his patience was starting to wear thin. It was mighty unusual to be left waiting outside the jail all tacked up for this long. At this rate, he was going to be hungry again before they even left town. Of course, Buck was fully aware that if anything could throw his human off schedule, it would be Kitty. He did hope the Marshal and his high-tempered lady were making up. His human usually kept his emotions under tight rein, but on those occasions where he and his human left town with things unsettled, Matt was just not himself at all.

Buck was definitely getting bored with no rider and no stable mates around and nothing but his own thoughts for company. He figured the waiting would have passed easier if Ruth had been there with him. He snorted a bit and figured he should probably try to enjoy resting here in the shade of the jail.

He was going to miss Ruth on this long trip as he had come to rely on the ugly ole mule. Horses didn't usually socialize much with mules and Buck was a little ashamed to admit, even to himself, that when Ruth started stabling with him a few years back, he had been a bit rude and arrogant, thinking himself some better. He was still prideful that he could easily outrun Ruth. But, he had to confess to himself, but never to Ruth, that there were days when he was bone tired while Ruth was still going strong. He would pretend he was just fine, but he'd been mighty glad when Matt or Festus called a break. Ruth was tough, but no way Buck would ever tell him that.

He'd also long ago learned that Ruth could be relied on in harsh situations and was a good thinker even if a bit stubborn about things. One thing that really rankled him though was Ruth thinking Festus a better human than Matt, but he figured a horse…or a mule, had to make the best of their own situation. Of course, Buck also knew plenty of horses who would be quite happy to be rid of their human. After all, a lot of riders were pretty worthless and would ride a horse into the ground leaving them spavined. While lounging in the stable, Buck had met a lot of broken down horses and heard too many sad tales of abuse. There were also a lot of horses that were ridden by a lot of different humans and had never had a chance to form a connection with a single rider. Buck would definitely be sad if he had not had the opportunity to form a special bond with Matt. Truth was, he could barely imagine life without the complex lawman.

Finally, the two humans came back out of the jail. Always observant, Buck saw that Kitty had tears in her eyes and Matt the smallest dab of lip rouge at the corner of his mouth. The latter a good sign, he thought, but the former a problem. Buck knew Matt would worry over those tears for a good long time. He was able to stoically resist anger, yelling, and throwing things, but tears brought the big lawman to his knees. And usually, he would do whatever it was she asked whether it was rescuing a small kitten, stepping in to help one of Kitty's saloon girls, or going the extra mile for one of his prisoners that the lovely Kitty Russell somehow decided was innocent. But Buck also knew that he almost never let those tears come between him and responsibility to his badge. This must be one of those times because, despite the tears, Matt quickly put his boot in the stirrup and hauled himself up into the saddle. Buck couldn't help but notice the extra pressure on the saddle horn as his human no longer mounted up with quite the same alacrity as he once had.

Once in the saddle, Matt caught Kitty's gaze and softly offered, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

She quickly wiped the tell-tale tears from her eyes before they fell and nodded to him before offering, "Be careful."

"Always," responded Matt as he gently tapped Buck's sides. Buck whinnied softly and moved away from the hitching post, turning down the road and heading out of town, leaving the forlorn woman still standing in front of the now empty jail.

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

Buck, like me, suffers a bit from ADD so he often has wandering thoughts. Unfortunately, at one point his thoughts meandered forward to an episode that occurs well after Hidalgo. That section of the story occurs in this chapter. Asterisks and a comment mark it. Skipping it will not impact the sense of the story, but the chapter will be extremely short. I hope you choose to read it. I believe it brings a sense of conclusion and healing to the episode.

" _There is just as much horse sense as ever, but the horses have most of it."_

Unknown

 _ **Horse Sense and Honor**_

by GunShy

Chapter 2: The Journey

Buck figured he probably knew Matt better than any of his human friends did. He and Matt spent long hours together with nothing but the earth and the sky for company. He had a natural ability to sense Matt's moods, but beyond that, he could tell how Matt felt and exactly what sort of mood he was in was in by the way he sat in the saddle and how he held the reins. Right now, Buck could tell that Matt was troubled. He doubted anyone else would be able to see that, but the tension in Matt's body and his tight hold on the reins telegraphed his mood to Buck more clearly than anything Matt might say, especially since Matt rarely verbally shared his feelings with anyone anyway.

As the day wore on, Matt gradually relaxed in the saddle as they headed south from Dodge at a ground-eating trot. Despite getting a late start, they made good time that first day as the weather was good and the trail firm, but Buck was still glad when they finally made camp in a small copse near a spring fed pond. He had noticed Matt tiring a good hour before they stopped as he sensed him slumping in the saddle from time to time. Buck figured he must not have gotten much sleep the previous night. Once they stopped for the night, Matt, despite his obvious exhaustion, took care of him before seeing to his own needs, first removing the saddle and bridle before securing him in an area with lush grass. Matt built no fire and ate only a little jerky before unrolling his bedroll and making himself comfortable for the night, a sure sign to Buck that he was either worried about unwelcome visitors or still upset about Kitty. Buck was pretty sure that this time, it was the latter. He was probably still feeling the effect of those tears. Buck knew that it had been very hard for Matt to leave Kitty standing on the boardwalk with tear-filled eyes.

For all the years that Buck had known him, Matt had been a one-woman man, and that woman was Kitty Russell. Buck was in a particularly good position to know this because he was the one that went out of town with Matt. Buck knew full well that if Matt was going to stray, that was when it would happen. Buck had definitely seen plenty of women who would have taken Matt to their beds in a minute. Some had just looked, but plenty of others had actively pursued him. Buck was a keen observer of humans and he saw how women's eyes followed the big Marshal. Sometimes the eyes that followed him were shy and glancing, other times open and filled with clear want. Most times Matt didn't even seem to notice, but Buck couldn't say that Matt didn't occasionally seem to enjoy the attention, but he most definitely never succumbed to their charms. Buck had seen Matt inadvertently break more than one heart when he failed to respond to some very pointed invitations. Even when far from home, lonely, and months without holding his woman, he saved his heart and body for Kitty.

****Begin Out of sequence episode reference****

Only once, in all the years that Buck had been with him, had Matt strayed and that hadn't really been Matt. He and Matt had spent weeks tracking a suspected murderer named Les Dean across the prairie. Dean had apparently gotten tired of being followed by the iron-willed Marshal and ambushed them with a long-range rifle. The bullet struck Matt in the head and he had fallen from his saddle. Fortunately, the bullet had not penetrated his skull. Buck had watched the barely conscious Marshal painfully and stubbornly try to crawl to reach his gun which he had dropped in the dry desert dust. Dean had ridden up, dismounted and kicked the gun closer, taunting him. When the Marshal doggedly reached for the gun one last time, Dean had bashed him in the head with the stock of his rifle. It was then that Buck's sense of his human had gone silent. He was a little embarrassed to admit it—even to himself, but at that point, Buck had panicked. Convinced his owner was dead and suffering from thirst, hunger and exhaustion, his instincts had taken over and he had run.

A woman named Mike had found the Marshal after Buck wearing a saddle, but no rider, galloped up to her homestead looking for water. She nursed Matt back to health, but the connection that Buck felt with his human was gone. Buck just couldn't feel him at all. When he had bolted up to her water trough that day, he had, for the first time in his life, been certain Matt Dillon was dead. Even after Matt recovered, Buck had no sense of him and Matt had treated him as if he'd never seen him before. Matt hadn't even known his own name. Amnesia they called it. Buck had sadly watched from the periphery as Matt—or Dan as she had named him—and Mike had become closer and closer.

There was a wrongness to it. Buck couldn't understand how Matt could forget Kitty. He was bonded to her by love, blood, pain, and shared experiences. How could he forget?

But then, he remembered that Matt was gone, maybe forever. Buck thought of that blank spot in his own heart where Matt had resided before Dean had cruelly clubbed him, leaving behind an empty shell of a man. Before that Buck would have known how Matt was feeling…on the inside, the feelings he hid under that façade the world saw.

Now Buck could only try to imagine how Matt felt, what it would be like to have no past, no identity, no knowledge of who you were in the world, what you had done, who loved you, or who you loved. He had tried so hard to reach Matt to find that bond that had always existed between them. He kept thinking he had to be in there somewhere, but in that place where Matt had resided within him, there was now nothing... Matt was in essence dead to him. All that remained was a shell of a man. Buck's only hope was that as long as Matt's body still existed, he might someday remember not only Buck, but Kitty and all that he had been and all that he had done.

Then Les Dean had returned. Walked right into Mike's house and ate dinner and chatted with Matt and Mike like they were old friends. Then he had bedded down in the stable. Buck recognized him immediately and was not at all happy to be sharing sleeping quarters with him. He remembered his cruelty, and was terrified Dean would finish what he had started and murder the Marshal. Matt had no idea how dangerous the man was and would be an easy target. But, it hadn't happened that way. Mike had come out to the stable the next morning and Buck had listened while Dean told her he'd come to kill her, not Matt as Buck had suspected. Dean had hired out as a paid assassin working for a neighbor named Starcourt. Dean went on to say he'd changed his mind, had seen the wrongness of it, and was heading back to return the money. He also said he saw that there was something between her and Matt. Told her he'd been the one to shoot him in the first place. But, he said, "Dillon's come on to luck after all." Had continued on to say, "You'll have a good life. What he don't know won't chew on him."

Buck was pretty amazed; he hadn't figured Dean for a man who had any goodness at all left in his heart. Buck had seen the man's mercilessness, remembered the sickening crunch when he had viciously clubbed the already seriously injured Marshal, leaving him alive, but with no awareness of who he was or where he came from. He listened as Dean went on to tell Mike, "That man in yonder is Matt Dillon, Marshal of Dodge City. He put in his time. Now you take to the sunlight, the both of you."

Buck had reflected on those words as Dean had ridden off and a dazed Mike had gone back to the house. He thought maybe Dean was right. Maybe it would be better if Matt never remembered who he was and just kept on being Dan. As Dan, he could build a new life with Mike. He would be safe. None of the enemies he had made as Marshal would find him here. But, somewhat selfishly, Buck knew he wanted his human back. He ached for the return of the Marshal's comforting presence. His disappearance had left a hole in Buck's existence. Buck was certain Kitty was missing him even more, probably even feared him dead by now. It wouldn't be his choice, but Buck was sure that Matt didn't belong here living a sham existence. Matt belonged in Dodge with Kitty and with him. They needed Matt. Dodge and the people of Dodge needed him too. And Buck sort of figured Matt needed them, too. Dan wasn't real; he was only an incomplete shadowy reflection of Matt Dillon. Buck snorted with discontent, recognizing that just because he wanted Matt back, it didn't mean he would get his way. It was at that precise instant that Buck suddenly felt the strong and reassuring presence of his owner return, filling the painful void that had left Buck feeling incomplete and alone. Buck wasn't sure what brought the Marshal back to himself, but he figured Mike had chosen honesty and told "Dan" enough of what she had learned to jog the Marshal's memory. Moments later, Matt Dillon, U.S. Marshal, whole and complete, had burst out of Mike's house, saddled Buck, and headed after Dean. Buck wondered if Matt planned to arrest him or save him. Frankly, he hadn't much cared which one; he was just glad to have his human back. As it turned out, Matt attempted both and managed neither. Les Dean died a better man than he had lived and made certain Starcourt would never threaten Mike again.

Mike had shown up moments after the deadly battle ended, and Buck clearly saw her love and concern for the man she had known as Dan.

Still astride her horse, she had looked into Matt's eyes, "You all right?"

He had nodded and responded, "Yeah, I'm all right."

Sadness had cloaked her features as she had said, "I want you to know something, Dan. It ain't easy to find two good men…and lose 'em both." Buck had known with certainty, at that moment, that Matt had shared Mike's bed. He also didn't miss that Mike referred to him as Dan and not Matt. She realized that it was Dan she had fallen in love with and Dan who had fallen in love with her, and now, Dan was gone, lost to her forever just like her first love.

Buck had watched as Mike then wheeled her horse around and galloped away, her parting words, tearing at Matt's heart. Buck listened as Matt called after her, but did not follow. Matt, like Buck, …and Mike, knew that his destiny lie elsewhere and that his heart was already forever joined to another. The ride back to Dodge had been long and melancholy. Buck had sadly watched Matt brood over what had happened, over his part in what Matt could only see as a travesty and a failure to live up to his ideals. Buck knew this man well. Matt took his commitment seriously and he would never have willingly betrayed Kitty's trust. Buck was sure that Matt felt he had failed to be the man he aspired to be, had been unfaithful to the woman he loved, and had taken advantage of a woman who deserved better. This would be another regret joining the litany he already carried. Matt wasn't a man that looked for excuses. For him, amnesia would not assuage the pain of his infidelity.

Once back in Dodge, things seemed to return to normal, but Buck could sense that things were not right with Matt. He couldn't help but think that Matt had not moved past what had happened out in the desert.

Then one afternoon as Matt was saddling him up, Kitty had shown up in the barn. Continuing to fasten the cinches and finish tacking him up, Matt had finally asked, "Something I can do for you, Kitty?" A casual observer might not have noticed anything unusual, but Buck could clearly sense Matt's seemingly inexplicable unease,

"Not really, Matt. I'm just going to ride with you."

"Ride with me?" Buck could tell that Matt was not pleased by this revelation. "Kitty, I'm just riding out to check on some of the homesteaders and ranchers, make sure there aren't any problems."

"That's ok, I just want to get out of town. Breathe some of that clean prairie air you're so fond of. I figured I'd be safer… with you. You know ole Potts has been talking about some renegade Pawnee."

"Sure, Kitty. You know I'm always glad to have your company."

Always the gentleman, Matt had saddled her horse and helped her up. Then the two had ridden out of town. Buck sensed that Matt was tense and uncomfortable. Buck figured this might be a real interesting ride.

They weren't more than five miles out of town when Kitty suggested they stop and rest the horses in a small grove of trees they were passing. With no reasonable reason to refuse, Matt had agreed.

Kitty had moved straight to the reason for wanting to ride with Matt.

"Matt you've been back in town two weeks and I haven't seen you for more than five minutes. The only time you came in the Long Branch was to break up a fight. I think you tipped your hat and said, 'Kitty,' and then you left to escort the troublemakers to the jail."

"I've been meaning to … "

"No Matt, you haven't been meaning to do anything. I come by Delmonico's and you leave your half-eaten breakfast claiming you need to go down to the stable. I come by the jail and you tell me you're supposed to be meeting Festus. Well here we both are now, and you are going to tell me what the hell happened while you were gone."

"Ok."

Buck watched as Kitty waited, and apparently finally deciding that was the extent of Matt's talking, decided she would have to push a little harder.

"You were gone a long time trailing Les Dean weren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Did you catch up to him?"

"Yeah."

"What happened to him?"

"He's dead."

"Did you kill him?"

"No."

"Well, what happened to him?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, I have plenty of time, Matt."

Matt took a deep breath and squared himself. "I've been trying find a way to tell you." He then moved away and seated himself on a fallen log, head resting in his palms, elbows on his knees.

Kitty seated herself next to him. "Matt, I've got to know. Was there another woman?"

Buck's heart ached for both of them as he watched Matt lift his head and look into Kitty's tear-filled eyes. "Yes." Then he had dropped his head back into his palms.

Her tears began to flow in earnest then as Buck shifted uncomfortably. Like his human, he did not like to see women cry. Matt reached out to her and she pulled away and stood. She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Do you love her?"

Matt raised his eyes again and met hers. Eyes that usually held only love for him now held only accusation. Buck could see the pain it cost Matt, but finally he forced out, "I did. I think… I can't really remember."

Buck watched as Kitty visibly deflated. But there were no more tears. Her eyes were hard crystal. Buck understood this woman almost as well as he understood Matt. He knew she loved this man, and she accepted the conditions he placed on their relationship, but Buck knew she would not accept him being with another woman. Buck hoped she would forgive him… once.

"Kitty, please, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Matt. And excuses don't become you. What do you mean you think you loved her, but you can't remember? Is she dead?"

"No."

"Are you going back to her?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't love her. Kitty, there is only one woman in this world that I could ever love and it's you."

"Dammit, Matt. How could you do this to me, to us?"

"It's hard to explain."

"Well, how about you try? You loved her. You don't love her. You only love me. It's not making a lot of sense."

"Dean ambushed me out there in the middle of nowhere. Matt lifted the hair off his forehead, wanting to prove that what he was saying was true. "The bullet hit me here."

Kitty could see the raw redness of the still healing scar.

"He came back to finish me off with the butt of his rifle. Guess he didn't figure I was worth another bullet. I would have died laying out there in the desert if Mike hadn't found me."

Buck could see the flash of compassion in Kitty's eyes as she looked at Matt. Buck knew that as angry and hurt as she was, the thought of Matt, alone and wounded, cut her to her core. She swallowed. "Who's Mike?"

"Mike's the woman, Kitty."

"So you fell in love with a woman named Mike?" Buck could see the conflicted emotions flickering across Kitty's face. Pain, jealousy, gratefulness. "So what happened next, Matt? Why her? It's not like you haven't had opportunity before."

"I was hurt pretty bad. When I finally woke up, there was no me. I didn't know my name, or where I came from, or what I did. I kept thinking what if I had done bad things, been a murderer. It haunted me. Mike gave me a place to be and a name, Dan. I had nowhere to go. No past. No future."

"Then how did you end up back in Dodge, seeming perfectly fine?"

"Dean came back. He told Mike who I was, the Marshal out of Dodge City. Mike told me and my whole life just came rushing back. I remembered everything. It was like an avalanche of memories, some good, some bad, times I killed people, times I'd been shot. It was overwhelming. But mostly, I remembered you, your smile, your eyes, how you were always there for me, how much I loved you. I held on to that and, in that moment, I missed you, Kitty, I missed you."

Kitty dropped down onto the log near Matt, but not within his reach. "Then what happened?"

"Well, I was there, in the house, with Mike. And I was remembering you and looking at Mike. I knew what happened. That I had been with her. And I couldn't understand how I could have… I didn't love her. Kitty, I'm not the kind of man that would take advantage of a woman. But maybe Dan was that kind of man, or maybe he loved her. I'm just not sure. It's like Dan was someone else, not me. And I couldn't remember what he felt or thought. But I knew when I looked at her that I didn't love her."

Matt paused, looked into Kitty's eyes begging her to understand something that even he hadn't been able to make sense of.

"She was a good woman, Kitty. But I didn't have those kinds of feelings for her. There was only one woman in my heart. I was so ashamed. She deserved better. I just left her, came back to Dodge. I'm a sorry son of bitch."

Kitty stood and Matt stood with her, stepped closer. "Kitty, I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Hell, I never meant to hurt Mike, but I wronged you both. I'm just asking you to think about forgiving me." He reached out, gently cupping her arm.

Buck watched as she shook free of his touch. He saw the conflict in her eyes as her attachment and love for this man warred with her anger and hurt.

"I…I need some time, Matt. Right now, I just need some time. I should really go." She backed away from him, dashing away newly forming tears from her flushed face. "This isn't easy for me." Then both Matt and Buck watched her mount up and ride back towards Dodge. Both of their eyes followed her until she disappeared in the distance.

Matt had stood there for a long time. But eventually he turned to Buck and patted him on the shoulder. "Yup, I'm a sorry son of a bitch." Then he had mounted up and headed back into Dodge.

Matt and Kitty had taken a short ride, but Buck thought a lot of distance had been covered. Sometimes a wound had to be cut open and aired out before it could heal. Buck was certain in his heart that it would take time, but that Kitty loved Matt too much to not forgive him. And time had proved him right. He was only a horse, but for a horse, he had a lot of sense.

Buck hoped that this trip to Mexico would be better and that Matt would complete his mission unscathed physically and emotionally. With that final thought, he figured he better get some sleep himself as Matt would likely be up early.

****End references to out of sequence episode****

Sure enough, Matt was up before the sun the next day and by the time the first rays of light peeked over the horizon, Buck and his human were again on their way. The days passed quickly with one day much the same as the next as horse and rider headed farther and farther south. They passed through the Oklahoma territories and crossed into Texas, stopping at the occasional town to re-provision.

Once in Texas, water became an increasingly rare resource. They had now passed two dried-up water holes that Buck knew Matt had counted on and they were now down to a single canteen of water. Both horse and rider were parched, but pushed forward. Their only hope was to find water before it was too late. Time and the sun were now their enemies. Matt had freed Buck's reins allowing them to hang loosely on his neck and Buck realized that it was now up to him. Matt was counting on his horse sense to find water for both of them. He had done it before, and he hoped he could do it again. Around noon, Matt pulled on the reins and called a halt in a relatively shaded spot. Buck, obedient as always, halted and Matt dismounted, then patted him on the neck and, thinking out loud, offered, "From now on, we'll travel in the cooler part of the day and at night." Buck didn't miss Matt's longing look at the last canteen of water before he settled in the sparse shade to rest until the heat passed. Buck feared that if they didn't find water tomorrow neither would survive another day.

As the sun sank low over the western horizon, Matt climbed to his feet and prepared to move on. Buck had noticed his human hadn't slept much. He hadn't been able to sleep much either. It was just too hot. Matt had been wise to take a break during the heat of the day. When they had first stopped, rivulets of sweat had been flowing down Matt's face and his shirt had been soaked. Buck couldn't help but notice that despite the still oppressive heat, Matt's shirt and skin were now dry, a certain sign that Matt needed water badly and wouldn't last much longer in the desert heat. He watched as Matt uncorked the last remaining canteen of water, took a substantial drink, and then, despite his extreme thirst, poured the remainder in his hat and offered it to Buck. Buck drank it down greedily. He wasn't surprised because Matt always shared his canteen water when there was no other water available.

Both knew that Matt's survival was linked to Buck's survival. Out here, a man without a horse was a dead man. They had to find water soon or both would perish. Some men lacked discipline and guzzled all the water for themselves and were soon left afoot to wander the desert until they died.

Matt mounted up and they continued south keeping their eyes on the horizon, watching for clumps of greener vegetation that would indicate the possible presence of water. Buck paused to sniff the air from time to time, hoping to detect a faint indication of moisture or the scent of life that he associated with the presence of water.

With no other option, Buck and his rider continued on as the sun sank out of sight and only the large moon lighted their way. Lack of water and sleep combined to dull the Marshal's senses, and Buck could tell that he occasionally dozed in the saddle while still maintaining a semi-conscious vigil and his seat in the saddle. Buck never ceased to be amazed at Matt's ability to stay in the saddle when sleeping or nearly unconscious. Buck was proud that his human trusted him enough to allow him to choose his own way down the dark rocky trail.

Finally, shortly before dawn, Buck thought he detected smells that he associated with water and maybe even the slightest tinge of moisture in the air. He plodded on following his nose. With the rising sun, he was able to see bits of greener vegetation in the distance breaking up the unending expanse of dried grass and sand dominated by dull greenish-gray mesquite and prickly-pear cactus. Buck felt Matt's increased alertness as he too saw the green vegetation in the distance and hoped that there would be water. Despite being tired and thirsty, Buck eagerly picked up his pace in response to his human's urgings to get to the greener vegetation and, hopefully, water for both of them.

Two hours later Buck and his human were resting next to a small tenaja. Both had drunk their fill. Buck watched as Matt also took the opportunity to clean up, shave, and fill his canteens. Buck never ceased to be fascinated by Matt shaving. Humans did many peculiar things, but this was one of the most peculiar. He knew Matt would almost always wash and shave if he was going to be spending time with Kitty, but he never could understand why. He had finally figured that human folk, especially of the female type, preferred their companions clean and sweet smelling, especially if they planned on getting up close and personal. But the scraping of fur off his face was more difficult to understand especially as some men did it and others didn't. Matt would even carefully scrape the fur off his face when out on the prairie with no one but Buck for company, like now, although he did it less regularly than when they were in town. Buck just chalked it up as another human mystery that he might or might not eventually solve.

Buck and his human remained at the waterhole for the rest of the day taking advantage of the opportunity to drink as much as they wanted and catch up on their sleep. Matt, in particular, took full advantage of the rare abundance of water, washing not only himself, but both the shirt he had been wearing and the dirty one that he had stored in his bedroll. Matt had then napped as the late afternoon sun warmed his body. Buck enjoyed the rare opportunity to see his human so relaxed. Buck's only sadness was the many scars on the man's body, reminders of all the things that had gone wrong in this lawman's life. Even more sadly, Buck knew the emotional scars on the inside were worse.

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

" _There is no secret so close as that between a rider and his horse."_

Robert Smith Surtees, "Chapter XXX: Bolting the Badger," _Mr. Sponge's Sporting Tour_ , 1853

 _ **Horse Sense and Honor**_

by Gunshy

Chapter 3: A Battle Lost

When they finally crossed into Mexico, both Matt and Buck were trail worn. Both had lost weight on the long journey. Food and water had been scarce and the days long, hot, and lonely. The harsh journey strengthened the bond that had been forged long ago by shared danger and deprivation. Buck had complete faith in his rider and he knew his rider had the same faith in him. Whatever the future held, Buck was committed to facing it with the courageous Marshal.

Buck could sense by Matt's constant shifting in the saddle that he was becoming increasingly watchful. Buck figured they must be getting close to their destination and he also tried to be especially watchful. Danger was close. He took Matt's safety seriously and had long ago made a pact with himself that as long as Matt was able to stay in the saddle, he would bring him home. Buck doubted there were many men who would have undertaken this journey and few to none who would have stuck it out. His human was one stubborn lawman.

It was on the morning of their third day in Mexico that they unexpectedly encountered Mando and his cohorts. Buck suspected that exhaustion and a growing desire to end this thing and go back home had made Matt careless. Buck had extreme confidence in his human's ability to handle almost any situation. He'd witnessed amazing feats of survival, but this time Buck was worried. He was sure it had not been part of his human's plan to ride into this ambush. He felt Matt tense in the saddle as he realized he had no cover, was outgunned, outmanned, and couldn't even clearly see all the outlaws.

Buck had smelled fear on men before, but even now he sensed no fear from his rider. Buck could only remember having sensed fear on him when Kitty had been in danger. He didn't mean that Matt was never afraid, but Matt harnessed his fear, used it to make him stronger. It wasn't the uncontrolled panic that you could smell on a man. Buck could only remember having sensed that kind of fear on Matt when Kitty had been in danger. And even then he had not succumbed to it. He still managed to control it, but Buck could sense it, bubbling just under the man's façade of control. Sadly, Kitty had been in danger more times than Buck cared to think about. The many instances flitted through Buck's brain.

Once, deranged Judge Calvin Strom from the Texas Panhandle and his two sons had kidnapped Kitty and Festus for the professed purpose of hanging them. Matt had ordered them out of Dodge and they had ostentatiously followed his order, but then slipped back into town. The youngest boy shot Matt from ambush to prevent his interference and then they had taken Kitty and Festus and disappeared. Buck snorted to himself a little at the memory. Buck had heard them plan the whole thing when they saddled up to ride out of town. Thankfully, they had underestimated the tough Marshal.

Matt had a serious leg wound and had needed assistance to get up on Buck. Buck could tell that had hurt a good plenty. But Matt had insisted that he would be part of the search. Buck remembered the distraught look on Doc's face as Buck and Matt had headed out with the rest of the posse. Matt had a history of not listening to Doc's advice, but, the truth was, Matt was hurting way too bad to keep up with the posse. Eventually he had been forced to send them ahead without him. With little hope of success he had continued his own lonely search. Even after all this time, Buck's heart ached a little at the memory of that day. Matt had been in excruciating pain. Buck didn't know how he had stayed in the saddle. Doc's repair work hadn't lasted an hour before Matt's leg wound was again bleeding profusely. Buck had felt Matt's warm blood dripping from the saddle and soaking into his fur. He had feared his dogged human would die in the saddle from blood loss, but there was no way the man would give up when there was still a chance to save Kitty and Festus. There was pain and there was determination, but Buck also sensed fear bubbling beneath Matt's iron control. Festus was one of Matt's closest friends and life without Kitty unimaginable.

Buck didn't know whether it was luck or skill, but his human arrived just in the nick of time to save Kitty and Festus. A terrifying tableau had greeted Buck and his rider as they crested the top of that last hill and looked down. Kitty and Festus, with ropes around their necks, sat astride horses who were unwilling participants in a mockery of justice. Matt had half-slipped and half-fallen out of his saddle, pulled his rifle free, and half-hobbled, half-crawled to a tree where he fell to the ground. Using the tree roots to steady himself, he had unerringly shot each of the three Strom men before losing consciousness. Lucky for Matt, Doc was already on the scene although Buck wasn't exactly sure why. Buck doubted Matt would have survived if Doc hadn't been there to provide immediate assistance. Matt owed his leg and maybe his life to Doc.

One of the worst times had happened long ago when Buck had been very young. On that particular day, Buck had been resting in the stall when Chester came down and saddled Nugget and him and took them up to the jail. Neither he nor Nugget knew what was going on. Buck had heard a single shot earlier in the day, but gunshots in Dodge were common. Buck had tried to listen to the conversation going on in the jail, but it had been crazy talk to him. Some argument between Doc and Chester about outlaws, people not needing food, and how to find water with a divining rod. Any fool should know you used your nose to find water. Buck could, however, most definitely feel the tension rolling off Matt and knew something was wrong.

Matt had finally ended the grating arguing by asking Doc the time. The answer seemed to galvanize Matt and he and Chester had gathered up their saddlebags, guns, and bedrolls, mounted up, and headed out of town. As they were leaving, Buck had heard Matt tell Doc that the people they were after were 3-4 miles ahead, that he didn't want to be followed, and that they might be a long time getting back. Buck soon learned from Chester's chatter that the Gunther brothers had taken Kitty as a hostage after robbing Bodkins' Bank.

Buck now knew why Matt was so tense, worried, and even scared. Few people knew it then, but the young Marshal was in love with the beautiful saloon girl, smitten by her beauty, courage, and kindness. The love Matt felt for Kitty in those days was intense and passionate. Over the years, that love had proven resilient and, whilst tested by adversity and blood, Buck had seen their love strengthen with each passing year. The thought of losing her was terrifying him though Buck suspected that was evident only to him. The misfortune of a poor young cowboy had provided the break Matt needed to quickly locate the outlaws. Jed Gunther had shot the cowboy and left him to die. With his dying breath the brave cowboy had told Matt to look for the outlaws at the abandoned cabin at Cross Creek.

It had been dark by the time Matt and Chester reached the cabin. Chester had not liked it, but Matt chose to wait to make his move until the Gunther brothers left the cabin. Matt hoped that wouldn't occur till morning when he felt the odds would be better. Chester had said, "Mr. Dillon I just hate the thought of knowing that Miss Kitty is in there with them all night."

Matt had responded, "If they do anything to her, by g… I'll tear their throats out." Buck had no doubt he would do it. And with that statement it had felt to Buck as if a veneer of ice had solidified around the Marshal. The emotions that had boiled within him all day were now completely contained as he had stood silent lonely watch throughout the night.

Come morning, the cabin door had opened and Chester had asked, "What are we gonna do Mr. Dillon?"

Matt had unequivocally responded, "We're gonna kill him, Chester."

A disbelieving Chester had responded, "You mean from here? Just shoot em in cold blood?"

Matt had coldly responded, "How do you wanna do it?"

Seeing there were no options, Chester had firmly responded, "Shoot em."

But since, Chester had no rifle, the responsibility had fallen on Matt and Matt had shot them both without compunction or regret. To him they were vermin who had threatened the woman he loved and he would take no chance with her life or safety. Buck knew that Matt was not a natural killer. He killed because it was necessary. There had been times when, afterward, the guilt nearly overwhelmed him. With these killings, there had been no guilt.

With the Gunther brothers dead, the Marshal had, in a moment, gone from icy killer to compassionate lover as he raced to Kitty's side and caught her in his arms as she fainted from mental abuse and lack of food and water. He saw to it that she had food and drink and stayed by her side until her strength returned. Then, even though she assured him she was all right, Matt had refused to allow her to ride, insisting that instead she ride with him, on Buck. He had clutched her tight to his chest on the long ride home. Buck could feel the fear and tension slip from the lawman as each beat of her heart assured him that she was still with him, that he had not lost her.

On another occasion, the young couple had been enjoying a carefree ride across the prairie when Kitty's horse had reacted badly to a snake and Kitty, perched on that ridiculous side-saddle contraption, had been thrown and knocked unconscious when she hit her head. Buck remembered how Matt had so carefully lifted her and climbed into his saddle, gently securing her against his chest as he urged Buck towards the nearest homestead. Buck had the very random thought, as this deadly gun battle was about to begin, that he sure hoped Matt never decided to use that absurd type of saddle.

Buck's focus was jerked back to the current situation when one of the outlaws called out, "Welcome Marshal. Welcome to Chihuahua. To serve you, me and a few friends."

Buck felt Matt shift in the saddle as he looked around for options, could feel him lean to the right and look down into the arroyo. It was a long way down. Buck didn't see any options, and he doubted Matt did either.

The outlaw continued, "You got no business here in Mexico. It is possible you will go."

Buck's horse sense told him they should listen to the outlaw's suggestion and go, but he doubted that would be Matt's plan. There was no back-up in this man.

If he had any doubts, they were dispelled by Matt's next words, "They died, Mando; you're coming back."

Buck knew his job was to focus and hold steady, allowing Matt to do the best he could in this uneven gun battle that Buck was certain was about to begin.

He listened carefully as Mando responded, "Then, it is permitted to try." And with those words the outlaws began firing.

Buck heard and felt the recoil from the only two shots that Matt fired. Saw at least one outlaw fall. The acrid smell of gunpowder stung his nostrils. Almost simultaneously, he felt the impact of first one and then a second bullet striking his human. The metallic smell of blood suddenly permeated the air and at the same time Buck felt the reins drop as his insensate rider toppled from the saddle and tumbled down the steep bank into the arroyo. Now riderless, Buck, left with nothing to rely on but his horse sense, broke and ran for safety.

Once a safe distance away, he pulled up, his nostrils flaring, and looked back. He saw the man Matt had called Mando and another man look down into the arroyo where his human had fallen. Both laughed as if seeing the Marshal lying at the bottom of the arroyo was some great joke; then the bandits turned and left. Buck felt sadness and fury. Mando was a name he would never forget. His horse sense said leave—go home, but something he couldn't quite identify held him in place. Despite the evidence, Buck could not accept his human was dead. He just wasn't ready to leave his fallen rider, couldn't imagine going back without him. No one would understand that there had been nothing he could do; Matt had not kept his end of the pact, had not stayed in the saddle. And above all, Buck did not want to return to Dodge without Matt and face Kitty.

Buck had a unique and cherished relationship with Kitty. She would come to the stable and bring him special treats, often an apple or carrot, but sometimes even a little sugar. Sure, Matt took care of him and saw that he had everything he needed, but Kitty spoiled him, talked to him, and shared her hopes and dreams. She came especially often during those times when Matt was away and he, like her, had been left behind. There, in the dark of night, she would rub his neck, tell him how soft his nose was, and how handsome he looked. She would talk to him about her fears for Matt's safety and her hopes and plans for the future. She often told him how she counted on him to bring Matt home to her and how much she appreciated all the times he had done just that. Buck had a special love for Kitty.

He remembered another time that Matt had been shot from ambush and fallen from the saddle. Buck had seen Matt's blood soaking the dry prairie soil. Too much blood he had feared. That time too, he had tried to stay nearby, wanting to be there when, or if, Matt came back needing him, but a man on a wagon had come and taken him into Dodge. He would never forget the pain he saw on Kitty's face when she saw the blood on his saddle and even worse when the man told her he had buried Buck's owner. The whole town was in chaos.

Kitty had come that night and cuddled against him seeking comfort and giving comfort. Her tears soaking his fur. She had told him how she just knew Matt couldn't be dead. No matter what everyone said, she was sure she would feel Matt's absence if he had died. She had prayed that he would come home to her. Buck had never wished more fervently that he had the ability to talk, but alas he could only stand and silently share her misery. There was no way for him to tell her that he knew the man that had been buried had not been Matt, but instead was the man who had ambushed them and who Matt had shot before falling from the saddle. But alas, Buck knew that even if he could have spoken, he could not have told Kitty for certain that Matt still lived. He had seen an Indian come and take Matt away, but he had also seen how much blood stained the prairie where Matt had fallen. Like Kitty, he was sure he would know if Matt were dead, that he would feel his absence just as he had when Matt had amnesia, but also, just like Kitty, a part of him worried that maybe he wouldn't know.

The sad, but special memory of that night with Kitty, strengthened Buck's resolve to stay nearby. He knew there was again blood on his saddle, and he most definitely did not want to hurt Kitty like that again. With the outlaws gone, he trotted over and looked down into the arroyo. Matt was frighteningly still and Buck could see no way to reach him. He wandered the area, grazing and trying to decide what to do. The saddle was beginning to chafe and his mouth was sore. Horse sense demanded that he head north, head home, but he ignored it. Heartsick and saddle sore, he aimlessly wandered the Mexican desert near the arroyo. Finally, even though it meant leaving Matt, he decided to search for a way down into the deep arroyo where Matt still lay, seemingly lifelessly.

Then, early on the second day, two of Mando's men captured him and took him in to town. He tried to run, but the rope that settled around his neck sealed his fate. He had delayed too long. They led him back to town and he had no option but to listen as they chattered about the foolish gringo marshal who had come alone to kill the great bandit, Mando and how they had shot him to pieces. He listened to their plans to return to the lawman and rob his body of his gunbelt, gun, bullets and anything else of value he had. Buck thought things seemed hopeless.

Once back in town, the men led him into a small stable and left him. It was nice to be back in a stable, but he felt he was among enemies. Most of the other horses had been there, when his human had been ambushed; he still couldn't bring himself to think of Matt as dead. His head feared it was true, his eyes had seen it, but his heart denied it. He still felt Matt's presence, which helped him keep hope alive, but he dreaded the disappearance of that comforting presence. The men intent on robbing the lawman had already headed out. Buck was certain that if the Marshal still lived, these men would kill him.

He knew Matt wasn't afraid to die and had often enough heard him say, "There was never a horse that couldn't be rode, never a man that couldn't be throwed." As a young horse, he had thought for a long time that Matt meant just exactly that, but with age came wisdom and eventually he had come to understand that it really meant there was no such thing as a man who couldn't be killed, that as good as his human was with a gun and his fists, someone better might come along. Buck had figured the more likely scenario was an unfair fight or an ambush like the one he had just witnessed. For now, he would not accept that day had come for Matt.

These horses that were now his stable mates derisively told him that he would soon be Mando's horse and that his human was a fool to come alone to Mexico where he did not belong. Buck did not want to belong to Mando, but he also knew he would have no say. What fate could possibly be worse than serving the man who had killed his human?

Buck did have to agree—although he would never say that to these horses—that Matt sometimes seemed to lack good horse sense when it came to self-preservation. That had bothered Buck for a long time. He had spent time ruminating on that question, wondering why Matt always seemed to rush into danger instead of away from it. He had finally concluded that horses thought like prey, but Matt thought like a predator. Not for the first time, Buck wondered where the line between courage and foolish stubbornness lay.

Despite his apparent lack of concern for his own safety, Matt was still far superior to the humans attached to these horses and he sure didn't like these other horses laughing and judging. To make his point, he looked at these new stable mates with disdain, then at the saddle still on his back and the empty water bucket and hay manger. He then sniffed with disgust at the dirty straw under his feet. Having made his thoughts clear regarding what he viewed as gross neglect by the responsible humans, Buck turned his back on the other horses. He might be forced to live with them, but he didn't have to like them. He obscured his grief with arrogance.

That night, a beautiful young woman came into the stable and slipped a gun into the saddlebags that were still attached to his saddle and then led him out of the stable. Once outside, she lifted her foot into the stirrup. He was being stolen. By a woman. Buck was surprised by the astonishingly unexpected turn of events, but hopeful this woman might take him away from here, far away he hoped. He didn't know her, but anything would be better than Mando's hands on his reins. Then his sharp hearing heard the approach of others. The woman also heard and pulled her foot from the stirrup. Too late to run, she turned to face the two men. Buck was disturbed to see Mando was one of them. He shied away.

A furious Mando glared at the woman malevolently and shook his head negatively, "Woman. Woman. Mistake. Bad mistake." Then he closed in and intimidatingly demanded, "Where do you think you are going?"

Buck saw her raise her chin before responding, "Just riding. I needed a little fresh air."

Then as fast as a snake, Mando slapped her face. Buck shifted nervously, his eyes rolling. His human would never strike a woman. He watched as she reached her hand up to her face to gingerly massage the bright red area as Mando menacingly continued, "You are my woman. How dare you?" Then he struck her again, demanding, "Where is he?"

She shrank back, cowering against Buck's side, still claiming ignorance, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Then Mando hit her again and again and again. Buck snorted, pulled his ears back and tried to pull away as the woman cried out in pain. Buck was shocked that any man would do this to a woman, any woman. Even worse, Buck had heard this man claim that this was his woman.

Matt was always so gentle with his woman. He was a powerful man, but so very careful with Kitty, almost as if he feared he might break her. Buck was sure that Matt would kill any man that treated a woman like this. Even Buck wanted to kill him, but Buck's training was deeply ingrained and the prime lesson he had learned was obedience to humans.

"For the last time, woman, where is he? Tell me or I'll kill the boy and the old man and then you. I am sure they helped him."

"No, please," she begged. "Not Lucho! I'll tell you where the man is, but please, please spare Lucho." She swallowed, and hung her head, "The man can be found in the ravine near the blind overhang. Not far from Augustin's house. Near the dry stream..."

Buck knew she had committed herself to sacrifice the unknown man to try to save the boy and the old man. He hoped she had made the right decision.

Mando bared his teeth in a feral grin. "In the morning, we will get him. I will bring him here and kill him while you watch. You will see he is a coward and cares nothing for you. And know this Lucero. "If you lied to me, if the man is not there, I _will_ kill Lucho and the old hidalgo." He paused, turned to the man with him. Nodded his head towards Buck. "Arturo, tie this horse back in the stable, then take Lucero to her room. I will deal with her later." Then he stalked out. Arturo obediently returned him to the stable and tied him, then left, dragging the beaten woman with him.

The stable was eerily quiet after the unexpected violence.

Buck shook his head and whinnied loudly. He was more certain than ever that he did not belong here. Sleep eluded him. He was sad for the man that Mando would find and kill in the morning and wondered if Mando was jealous of this unknown man. Was he a competitor for Lucero's affections? Mando had warned her that this other man didn't care for her, but to Buck, Mando's actions said he didn't cared for her either.

Other men had tried to win Kitty, Buck recalled. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out, Buck thought. Many men were attracted to her. As he had seen with Matt and women, when Kitty walked down the street, men noticed. Most of the time, she kindly rebuffed their attentions, but there had been a few exceptions. There had also been a time when she had left Matt because she loved him too much to stay around and watch him sacrifice himself for his badge. He had followed her, hoping for her return… under the pretense of Marshal business. But nothing like this ever happened.

Buck knew better than anyone how devastated Matt had been during those times that Kitty left or showed even passing interest in another man. Buck was the one that had carried Matt out on the prairie where he tried to escape his pain in the wide-open spaces. Buck knew it never worked. He watched Matt suffer in silence, unwilling to tell Kitty to choose him or even tell her he cared. Matt's schooled expression covered the desolation that Buck knew lay hidden under the surface. Buck could not help but notice that Matt was not at all good at sharing his feelings. The lawman's ability to sublimate or conceal his emotions was amazing. Matt was a man of strong emotions and Buck often sensed these emotions, rage, worry, fear, guilt, and even love, emanating from his human, but his countenance revealed few of the emotions roiling just beneath the surface.

Fortunately, each time Kitty left, she had eventually returned to the lawman's side and Buck had breathed a sigh of relief. He was not sure his human could survive without the beautiful red-headed lady. Matt had many shortcomings in his relationship with Kitty, and Buck had heard her angrily delineate them on more than one occasion. He understood it was hard for her to stay with the lawman, but, fortunately, so far, it was apparently even harder for her to leave him. Buck knew that she loved the Marshal and knew that she owned his heart, but sometimes she needed more. Buck just hoped she never gave up on the laconic lawman because Kitty not only owned and protected Matt's heart, but also had the power to crush it. Matt needed her even if he wouldn't tell her.

Buck had been out on the prairie often enough with the Marshal when he was out of his head with fever or injury. He was often the only one to hear a delirious Matt call for Kitty. The only one watching when Matt, against all odds, dragged his weary pain-wracked body up into the saddle and pushed himself to return to Dodge. Buck was pretty sure that Matt would never have survived this long if it hadn't been for the pull he felt to get home to the woman he loved. A man needed a reason to live.

It was hours before Buck abandoned his musings and calmed enough to rest. When he finally did drift off to sleep, he kept his eyes open as he did not feel safe in this stable, a trick he retained from his ancestors who had never been safe from predators. He had often seen his own human, apparently asleep, but with his senses still alert. It was good for Matt to be watchful. Buck knew that even a predator could be prey. He wondered if Matt, despite his lack of horse sense relative to self-preservation, might not have a just a little horse in him. He was exceptionally large…for a human.

Buck soon woke from his light sleep to the sound of yet another person stealthily creeping into the stable. He felt a feather-light touch on his rump and then his flank. He turned his head as much as the short tether would allow, looking to see who this new intruder was and wondering what would happen next. He was surprised when a young boy slipped into view. This stable was a very busy place for the dark of night. He watched as the boy surreptitiously checked his surroundings, then untied him and led him out of the stable before quickly climbing up into Matt's saddle-another surprise in a night of surprises. He could barely feel the weight of the boy on his back and could tell that he was inexperienced, the sort of rider a horse could ignore. But Buck wanted to leave this stable more than anything and so he eagerly responded to the boy when he urged him forward. Buck raced away from the stable and out of the town, the boy clinging to his back.

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

' _I love the name of honor more than I fear death."_

Julius Caesar

 _Horse Sense and Honor_

By GunShy

Chapter 4: The Price of Honor

Buck was delighted to be leaving this place, and especially Mando behind, but he also felt hope burgeoning in his heart. This boy had his own smell, but Buck could also clearly sense the faint scent of his own human clinging to the boy. Buck would never mistake that smell for any other. He could pick Matt's scent out of a crowd even when it was covered by the smell of soap when he was clean or dirt and sweat when he wasn't. He could even easily identify it when it was intermingled with the unique scent of Kitty Russell, which it often was. And now, he could clearly detect it despite it being weak and heavily masked by the boy's own scent.

Was it possible Matt still lived? Was it possible he had sent this boy for him? Buck ran as if a pack of wolves were in pursuit.

The morning sun was just chasing away the night when Buck saw a simple house up ahead. The boy pulled him to a stop in front of the small home and slid from his back even as Buck saw Matt exiting the door followed by an old man. Matt, alive and walking. Buck blinked, nearly unable to believe this miracle he saw with his own eyes. He had not failed. He would still be able to bring his human home.

Matt had a brief exchange with the boy, ending with, "Thanks, Lucho." Then Matt came straight to him, removed the gun from the saddlebags and checked to see if it was loaded, even as Lucho urged him, "If you start fast, ride fast. They will never catch you. I am sure of it."

Buck was all for that, especially as he saw the pain in his human's eyes, the difficulty he had in standing up straight, and the bloody shirt and vest he still wore—all evidence of his recent brush with death. This boy has good horse sense, he thought.

But Buck's hope plummeted as Matt walked back towards the boy and the old man, asking, "How do I get to Merced?"

The old man exclaimed, "Merced?" Clearly, he did not think Merced was a place the Marshal should go, and neither did Buck.

Buck didn't miss Matt's resigned sigh before he responded, "That's where I have to go."

Buck couldn't help but think that honor demanded too much of this man.

The thrill that Buck had momentarily felt at the thought of returning home with Matt was now tempered with trepidation over what his human intended.

Lucho cried out, "It cannot be. You must not go there. There are so many. I thought you would be safe from Mando."

Buck was in full agreement with the boy, but as usual no one cared what he thought. Buck knew what was in Merced: death. Matt would have no chance, would be riding into another ambush. This made no sense and Buck did not wish to return to that evil town. He even unrealistically considered that perhaps he would ignore the signals of the reins and just take Matt home, home to safety, home to Kitty. Matt was in no shape for any more gun battles. He wondered if it would be too greedy to hope for another miracle.

Buck watched Matt grimace in pain as he lowered himself to one knee to be on level with the boy, wanting to interact with him as an equal. "Lucho, now listen to me. I can't go. If I tried to go now, you see, Mando and his men might come back here. They might kill your Grandfather and your sister. Now we can't let that happen, can we?"

The devastated boy shook his head. "No. No. But you?"

Buck knew that what Matt told the boy was true; he had personal experience with Mando's depravity. He also knew his human could never live with himself if he did not do everything within his power to prevent it. His human valued honor, the law, and the protection of the weak above his own life. Buck knew this was somehow tied to the badge Matt loved and Kitty hated. That thought made him think about what this trip to Merced might cost Kitty. If Matt died in this faraway place trying to protect these people, she would never know what happened to him. But he knew that Matt's bravery and concern for others was a big part of what she loved about him. Life was complicated for humans.

Buck was amazed at how sensitive Matt could be and the gentle care with which he interacted with others, especially women and children. Many times he had seen him kill and beat men in service to that badge, yet he remained a sensitive and caring human under that tough exterior. He was a paradoxical human. He followed an innate moral compass that demanded he protect and care for the weak and defenseless while maintaining the physical and mental toughness to kill necessary. A tough and near impenetrable external facade shielded his compassionate core from all but those closest to him. Buck was well-aware that sometimes even the Marshal himself saw only that outer shell and failed to recognize his own inherent kindness. Buck definitely knew that the killers and spoilers that Matt dealt with regularly didn't think there was anything soft about the Marshal at all. Buck was glad to be one of those who knew better.

Buck watched Matt struggle back to his feet, felt him step into the stirrup and groan as he painfully dragged himself up before dropping gracelessly into the saddle, the clumsy movement forcing a gasp of pain from the stoic Marshal. Once settled, Buck felt Matt nod to the boy before urging Buck towards Merced. Buck was tired and saddle sore, but vowed he would not fail his human. As conflicted as he felt about the chosen destination, he maintained a steady pace bringing his human ever closer to a second confrontation with Mando and his bootlickers.

They were only about halfway there when Buck noticed that Matt had slumped over in the saddle and his hold on the reins loosened. Buck's human was barely clinging to consciousness and Buck again detected the sharp tang of fresh blood. Matt was hurting and bleeding again. Buck considered changing direction, taking him home. Buck was sure that Doc could fix him, but home was far away. Too far, he conceded. And, in his heart, he knew the Marshal was determined to complete his mission, bring that murderous miscreant, Mando, to justice, and insure the safety of those Mando would hurt.

His heart was not in it, but Buck would honor Matt's decision, and so he continued on towards Merced. He knew the way so required no direction from his near unconscious rider. He slowed his pace to make sure Matt would stay in the saddle. There had been many days and nights when Buck had slowly and carefully carried his bloodied, hurting, and nearly unconscious human, but this time, he carried him not towards home or safety, but towards near certain death.

On the outskirts of town, Buck stopped, shook his head and softly nickered, rousing his ailing rider. He could feel Matt pulling himself straighter in the saddle before signaling his readiness. Then the horse and rider entered the town.

Buck heard one of Mando's sycophants announce their arrival, "Look, there one comes. The gringo."

Buck stood still as Matt pulled back on the reins, knew he needed to respond immediately to any signals from his weakened human. He inhaled sharply. There were again too many, but he stood firm with his human. He looked over towards the stable he had hoped to never see again and thought, my human might be a fool, but he is a courageous fool. Both watched as the villagers scurried from the open square to points of safety where they could see, but not be killed.

Buck tried to prepare himself for whatever would come, but was still unprepared when Matt weakly dismounted to his right. Confused, Buck had to make a special effort to hold steady. Buck was a creature of habit and in all the years that he had carried him, the man had never dismounted to the right—not once. Buck wasn't sure why it was that way, but he liked the predictability. He briefly worried that his human was completely addled by injury and blood loss. Then, when Matt set his feet on the ground, Buck felt him grab onto the saddle horn with both hands for support. It was clear that Matt was unable to stand unaided. Buck stood stock still to provide the needed support. By dismounting to the right, Matt placed Buck to his left and slightly behind him and the outlaws in front and to the right of him. His gun hand was free and his gun easily accessible. Buck quickly concluded that Matt had been cognizant of the need for his right hand and gun to be on the outside, away from Buck's body since he would be unable to step clear of him. And, even in this deadly circumstance and, even if he was only a horse, Matt had taken care to not use him as a shield from the bullets of these bandits. He and Matt might both die here in a hail of bullets, but Buck would never regret being the Marshal's horse. The greater danger was of course to the Marshal. He would be the target; Buck would be collateral damage. Buck was very relieved that while Matt might be nearly out on his feet, his thought processes were clear. Now Buck could only wait to see what Matt's plan might be. He hoped he had a plan.

Once on the ground and supported by his grip on the saddle horn, Matt called, "Mando."

Mando swaggered out of a building. "You are talking, dead man."

"I came for you," continued the visibly weakened lawman.

"You came to die, you who cannot stand without your horse to help you," was Mando's disdainful reply. "You came here to look for me," he laughed and looked to his men arrayed on both sides of him.

Buck thought things looked awful bleak, but was still hoping his resourceful human had a plan.

Matt took a deep sustaining, but painful, breath before responding, "What's the matter, Mando? You need your boys to help you? Do ya? Against a wounded man?"

Buck could tell that Mando was a little rattled as he responded, "Man, I gave you your chance at the arroyo. You rode into your sorrow like a fool, as you come here."

Matt answered, "There was a difference. Out there nobody could see how many men you needed to help you. Here you got the whole town watching."

"You think it matters, gringo? You think I care?"

Matt continued to push, "Can't make it alone, Mando? Is that it? You need to get your guts from your side gunners, do ya?" Buck could feel Matt weakening, knew he needed to end this soon, but also knew that somehow, Matt had to improve the odds if he were to survive.

Buck could smell the fear on Mando and doubted he would ever have the nerve to face Matt alone.

Then reinforcement for Matt came in the form of Lucero, Mando's woman, the woman Buck had seen Mando beat. Buck reveled in her revenge as he listened to her call out, "Mando, listen to me. You'll fail to face him alone. Even wounded, he is a better man than you. I know it. We all know." She paused, looked around at the town's people, then continued, "He is more man than you, Mando. I know. You are afraid. You are a brave man, Mando, fighting women."

Matt stayed quiet, waiting. Buck knew that Mando's pride would be stung by this abuse from his own woman, especially as it came with the whole town watching.

Finally Mando's ego overrode his fear, "Afraid to be alone? Afraid of this one," he scoffed.

Then he waved his men off. Buck knew that Matt had won the battle of wits, now only the gunfight remained.

Buck watched Mando grab for his gun and then breathed a deep sigh of relief as the outlaw barely cleared leather, his bullet harmlessly fired into the dirt before he was killed by a single deadly shot from the injured lawman. With their leader dead in the dust, Mando's erstwhile henchmen vanished into the nooks and crannies of Merced, much like the rats at Moss Grimmick's disappeared into the cracks of the old stable at the first light of day. But Buck's relief was short lived. With the immediate danger neutralized, Buck felt Matt collapse against his side, hang on briefly, sigh, and then slowly slide to the ground, his adrenaline-fueled strength spent. Buck stepped away, careful to not step on the unconscious lawman and looked over the crowd hoping that someone would come to help. He was grateful when the woman he knew as Lucero quickly came forward and crouched by the injured man, calling on the villagers to help him. Soon others came forward and together carried him into the cantina.

One of the villagers led Buck back to the hated stable, but this time, when Buck entered, he felt more like an honored guest, a victor fresh from the field of battle. Last time he had been a bound prisoner. This human removed his saddle and bridle, gave him fresh water, and filled the hay manger. Finally free of the saddle and bridle he had worn for days, Buck would have thought all was well in the world if he wasn't plagued by worry about Matt. Despite his worry, Buck still let the other horses know that his human still lived and that it was Mando who died and who now lay dead in the dirt, defeated. There would be no more laughter and derision from these horses.

Buck spent three long days in the stable waiting for word of how his human was. Then on the morning of the fourth day, Matt had come to the stable and saddled him. Then Matt had ridden him out of that godforsaken town. Buck could tell that Matt was still weak, but he still thought they cut a fine figure leaving that stable and those horses behind.

Relief warred with disappointment when they did not head north towards home, but instead went to the house where Buck had first found his injured rider. Buck was ready to go home, but it was evident that Matt was not sufficiently recovered to make that long and arduous journey.

Visibly drained by the short ride, Matt still took the time to unsaddle buck and was busy feeding and watering him when the boy, Lucho, entered the small shelter offering to take over caring for Buck so Matt could go in and rest.

Buck was excited to see the boy, greeting him with soft nickering and by pushing his nose against his chest. Buck would never forget this boy for he was the one who returned Matt to him. Horse and boy were connected by both respect for the brave lawman and shared determination to protect him.

Hurting and exhausted, the injured Marshal was glad for the offer of help. "Thanks Lucho, I'd appreciate that. I hafta say, I've never seen Buck take to someone like this," he observed, nodding towards Buck and the boy before gratefully heading into the small home.

With the Marshal gone, Lucho enthusiastically took over Buck's care. Once he finished watering and feeding him, he grabbed the curry brush and started giving him a good rubdown. Buck sighed and nickered softly to show his appreciation and listened attentively as the boy chattered away while he worked. "Buck, you must be the greatest horse in the world. No wonder the Marshal chose you. I told Grandfather when I found him in the arroyo that he was the greatest man I had ever seen. A giant. I knew he was good; he had the star of metal on his chest."

I really like this boy, thought Buck as the boy prattled on about the events that had happened after Matt had tumbled into the arroyo.

"Grandfather and I brought him to the house. He was gravely wounded. He had bullet holes here and here." Lucho pointed to his own chest and stomach to show Buck where Matt had been hit. "He was all bloody. Grandfather thought he would die, but Lucero gave me money for medicine. Grandfather and I cared for him, and he lived. When Mando found out he was gone from the arroyo, he came searching for him. I knew, if he did not have a horse or a gun, he would have no chance; Mando would kill him. That is why I went for you. The rest, you know. Wounded and bloody, your Marshal killed Mando. We are finally free of the bandits, and Lucero has come home. And now, you and Mateo will rest here until he is strong again," the boy concluded happily and somewhat breathlessly.

Buck thought this boy rattled on even more than Festus, but he was glad to know what had happened while he and Matt had been separated. With the exception of Kitty, who he knew would see the new injuries and demand an accounting, and possibly Doc, Buck was sure that neither he, nor anyone else, would ever hear about it from his laconic human and even Kitty would probably never hear the whole story.

Buck found the name Mateo interesting, wondered why the boy did not call his human, Matt. He was used to Festus calling him Matthew and now he would get used to the boy calling him Mateo. Sometimes humans had too many names. He was glad that, so far, no one ever called him Bucky or Buckaroo, or Buckeo, or Buckhew, or anything except, Buck.

Buck spent three more days in the little shelter. Matt checked on him daily, but it was Lucho who faithfully cared for him. Matt even allowed the boy to take him out for exercise each day.

Then, on the morning of the fourth day, Matt saddled Buck and, after sad goodbyes to the friends they had both made, began the long journey home. Buck knew he would especially miss Lucho and was glad when he saw the Marshal surreptitiously give the boy his badge. The star of metal, Lucho had called it. Buck knew the badge and all it stood for meant a great deal to the Marshal. It was a sign of the respect Matt had for Lucho that he would give it to him for a keepsake. Matt had, on more than one occasion, nearly died for the ideals that badge represented. And Buck knew a certain red-headed saloon owner that fervently hoped the Marshal would permanently give that badge away before he did die defending the principles it symbolized. Maybe someday...

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

" _The difficulty in life is the choice_."

George Augustus Moore

 _Horse Sense and Honor_

By GunShy

Chapter 5: Going Home

The trip home was easier than the trip away had been, but somehow it seemed longer. Buck knew that's how it was when you were looking forward to something. And it sure was better to look forward to home and friends instead of enemies, danger and potential death.

Buck could tell by the way his rider sat in the saddle and the grimaces and occasional groans that accompanied saddling him up that Matt had not waited until he was sufficiently recovered to leave. Buck knew that, like himself, Matt was eager to be home, too eager to wait until he was completely healed. By late afternoon, Buck could feel Matt slumping in the saddle and eventually hunching over and practically lying across his neck. But Matt was tough and stubborn, and Buck was not surprised to see that he pushed himself to put in a full day in the saddle despite his obvious misery. Thankfully as the days passed, Matt slowly improved.

As soon as they came to a proper town back in the U.S., Matt stopped at one of the businesses and scribbled something on a piece of paper, which he gave to the man behind the counter. Buck watched through the open doorway as Matt pointed towards the boarding house across the street and the man nodded his understanding. Then Matt had taken him down to the stable and left him in the care of the stableman. Buck hoped Matt was enjoying a delicious meal, a bath, and a good night's sleep in a real bed as much as he was enjoying his grain and rubdown.

Matt showed up early the next morning having already purchased fresh provisions. He quickly tacked him up and climbed into the saddle. Buck was a little surprised when, on the way out of town, they stopped in front of the same business they had stopped at yesterday. Buck saw Matt ask the man behind the counter something and sigh when the man shook his head no. Buck didn't need to be perceptive, or a mind reader, to see Matt's disappointment.

Each day Matt and Buck rode from first light until the last rays of the sun disappeared from the sky. They had been gone a long time and wanted nothing more than to be home. Buck knew Matt would be especially anxious to again hold Kitty in his arms. Time didn't mean a lot to Buck, but he knew the days were long and the temperatures hot when they left Dodge, and now the days were shorter and the temperatures colder everyday. Matt would need a coat if they didn't get back soon. Already the nights were uncomfortably chilly. Buck was aware that Matt was brooding and figured he was worried about his town and what might have happened while he was gone and, most especially, whether Kitty was alright and whether she would be there, waiting…for him.

The closer they got to home, the more anxious Buck was to get there. He missed his stall and his friends, and he figured Matt missed his friends too. Anticipation seemed to slow the passage of time. It was good that both he and Matt were mentally and physically healthy. Many times he had brought Matt home wounded in body, spirit, or both. There had been times when the Marshal had been so weakened from injury that he was barely able to cling to the saddle long enough for Buck to get him home to friends and safety. In some ways it was even worse when Buck brought him home emotionally broken. He knew his human had a kind heart and a noble spirit and that sometimes his service to the badge shredded his heart and nearly broke his spirit.

Matt had killed many men. Buck had been there for a lot of the killing. He knew some of the men that Matt killed didn't trouble him overly much-Mando, for example. But there had been other times when the killing weighed heavily on him.

Buck recollected the incident where Matt had taken on a whole gang alone. He'd killed them all except the leader. And the leader had called Matt a butcher. Buck figured those men deserved killing, but the survivor got under Matt's skin, made him wonder if he was any different from the gunmen, killers, and spoilers that he despised. Over and over that outlaw had called Matt a butcher, drilling the word into Matt's brain. Buck felt like Matt never got that outlaw's taunts out of his mind. They lurked in its deepest recesses, surfacing unexpectedly in times of weakness to make the man doubt his humanity.

There had also been occasions when Matt had been forced to killed old friends. Buck figured Matt must have kept interesting company before he got so attached to that badge. Some had been gunmen, one a lawman, and one an outlaw. Each death had been an unavoidable tragedy, and each had taken a toll on Matt. Despite the sadness he felt for Matt, Buck knew in his heart that the day Matt stopped regretting the killing he was forced to do, would be the day Matt lost his soul.

A couple of times, the guilt had driven Matt to give up his badge. But there had been no one to step in and fill the vacuum he left, no one to protect the innocent and enforce the law, no one who met Matt's standards. Each time circumstances forced Matt to accept that he was uniquely qualified for the job of Marshal. Eventually, he had always pinned the badge back on. That badge weighed a lot more than the people of Dodge realized, but Buck figured it was a responsibility Matt just couldn't shirk. Buck had to admit that Matt never looked quite right to him without that worn and burnished badge pinned so distinctively on his shirt. Sometimes, to Buck, it seemed like the Badge was a living thing that had rooted itself in Matt's heart.

There were times when it wasn't even Matt doing the killing; it was the law. But Matt was an instrument of the law and sometimes the law killed innocent men. Matt carried the weight of those transgressions too. Buck remembered Dave Engels. Dave had been a nice fellow, always had a kind word for Buck. Buck had never seen him hurt a soul, but somehow he got himself convicted of murder. Matt had been sure Dave was innocent. After Dave had been sent to Hays to hang, Matt had spent days tracking the real killer, had gone all the way to Texas to find him. To bring him in, Matt had been forced to kill a good man who had gone crazy with grief and, in the chaos, had taken a bullet in his leg. He had buried the man he killed and despite the blood and the pain from the bullet had, with sheer grit and determination, gotten the guilty man back to the prison in Hays.

Buck had felt the pain that coursed through Matt with every step of that long journey, had seen his grimaces, and felt the warm wetness of Matt's blood soaking his fur. Had watched him fight off sleep to keep watch over his malevolent prisoner. After all that effort and suffering, Matt had been too late. Dave was dead, killed in a jailbreak. He had been killed even before Matt's telegram notifying officials that Dave was innocent and that Matt was leaving to apprehend the guilty man had arrived.

On the trip from Hays City to Dodge, Buck had watched as the physical pain from Matt's now healing leg wound had been replaced by emotional pain that ate at the Marshal's soul. Buck had heard Matt mumble Dave's own parting words to him, "Wearin that badge ain't the easiest, but it's the right man wearin it." Buck knew that the Marshal carried those words with him on the long miserable journey home. Buck figured that Matt wanted to believe those words were true. Buck knew they were.

Buck thought that worst of all had been Pruit Dover. It had all started with a routine prisoner transfer. Matt picked up Pruit in Elkader and was escorting him to Dodge to face a murder charge. Buck had liked Pruit right away. There was a light about him. Buck had a natural dislike for most outlaws. They exuded a dark aura and he could often feel the hatred they felt for his human. That alone was enough for Buck to dislike them. Pruit just seemed different and Buck thought himself an excellent judge of men…and horses. Buck had listened as Matt and Pruit had talked that first day and night on the trail. Pruit had not had an easy life of it, but he still seemed happy with his lot in life prior to this murder charge. Even Matt seemed to like the young cowboy.

Then on the second morning, the trip had taken a dark turn. A crazy old coot had gotten the drop on Matt and Pruit. The man had spouted nonsense about them building fires and polluting the water and him not wanting them to be there. He had demanded that Matt drop his gun and Matt, with a rifle pointed straight at him and the man calling out from cover had complied. The old man seemed unhinged, but there was no ambiguity in his threat. "I've got the gun and I'm gonna use it." Then he directed his attention to Pruit, "But not on you, you ain't here on your own accord so you can saddle up and leave. Take his horse with you. I don't want it around."

Pruit, shocked disbelief coloring his voice, had asked, "You're not just gonna…"

The man had cut him off, "Get outta here and don't come back. Not ever."

Buck had watched and listened to the unfolding events hoping that it would not end this way for Matt. Surely his human would not die so senselessly, gunned down by a lunatic codger in the middle of nowhere.

He watched as Pruit started to leave, but as he passed the old man, Pruit had unexpectedly tried to grab the rifle. There was a struggle. The old man regained control of the gun and pulled the trigger. Buck saw the bullet hit Matt low in his left shoulder, felling him. He saw Matt try to rise as the old man pushed Pruit away a second time and then tried to crush Matt's skull with his rifle, just missing the lawman and splintering the gunstock on a rock. Dropping the useless rifle, but still intent on murder, he had grabbed the barely conscious lawman and bashed his head against that same rock. Pruit was up by then and pulled the crazed man off of him. Pruit and the old man struggled. The old man pulled a knife, the struggle more deadly now. Matt had made a feeble last attempt to rise before losing consciousness completely. Pruit finally buried the knife in the old man's chest.

Buck was glad to see the immediate threat to Matt removed, but he still feared for the safety of his badly wounded rider. Matt's survival was in the hands of his erstwhile prisoner. Buck relaxed slightly as the young man had moved the Marshal onto a blanket, leaned him against his saddle, and placed a cool cloth on his forehead. Buck had been right. Pruit Dover was a different sort of man than the outlaws Matt usually escorted.

Buck had waited and worried as Matt lay still and unresponsive. Finally he had regained consciousness, a good sign thought Buck. Matt had acknowledged his debt to his prisoner, "Pruit, you saved my life. I thank ya." Simple words, Buck thought, but heartfelt.

Although he had never done it before, Pruit told Matt he would try to get the bullet out. Matt had advised him, "Once you start, keep digging until you get it out." Buck thought that reasonable and, he hoped, easy to follow advice. Buck knew Matt would die if Pruit didn't get that bullet out. It wasn't something that could be half done.

Matt had offered one last bit of advice before Pruit had started. "If I start hollerin, just hit me with a piece of wood or something."

Buck had lifted his head at that strange remark. Surely he wasn't serious. Buck was absolutely certain that Doc never hit his patients in the head when he was removing bullets. Perhaps it was a joke, but Buck didn't think it very funny. He had been relieved when Pruit had gotten the bullet out and, even though there had been a little yelling, had not hit the Marshal in the head. Matt had turned quite pale and passed out pretty quickly. Buck had been relieved. He didn't like to see his human suffer.

Buck kept silent watch over his unconscious human, unsure what might happen next. Relying on a prisoner for medical attention was worrisome. Buck's concern ratcheted up when Pruit carefully pulled Matt's gun and gun belt away from the unconscious lawman. Under less perilous circumstances, Buck might have been amused when the young cowboy tried to buckle on Matt's gun belt before realizing it would wrap around him more than once. He had settled for wearing it like a bandoleer. Buck was disappointed when Pruit mounted up and left the injured Marshal alone and defenseless. He saw Matt stir briefly and saw disappointment on his face too before he again lost consciousness. They had both come to think Pruit Dover was a better man than that. But Buck knew Matt was tough and while they were a long way from Dodge, Buck was sure that his rider would get himself into the saddle and then Buck would get him home. They did not need Pruit. Buck was thankful that Pruit had not taken him along with Matt's gun and gunbelt. Matt would need him to get home.

Pruit had surprised them both when he returned with fresh meat and remained with the Marshal while he recovered his strength. The Marshal had recuperated more quickly than expected though and Pruit had been upset when he unexpectedly found Matt up and buckling on his gun belt. It was clear to both Buck and Matt that Pruit had planned to leave while Matt was still incapacitated

Buck knew his rider owed a debt to Pruit and he knew that his human would try to repay that debt, although Buck wasn't sure how Matt would be able to help. Matt was a U.S. Marshal and he was still determined to transport Pruit to Dodge for trial, although Buck did not miss the injured Marshal's strange comment to Pruit. "If you wanted to ride outta here right now, I don't know if I could stop ya."

Buck assessing the situation objectively very much doubted the veracity of that statement. He had seen the Marshal in far worse condition handle far meaner men. He listened as his usually taciturn human had continued with what for him was a lengthy speech. "But don't ya know, if you do that, why it's just a matter of time till me or some other lawman will be out after ya. The only freedom you'd ever have would be the freedom to run and hide. Now that's no good. You can do better than that. Pruit, you've saved my life and don't think I'm ever going to forget that. I'll tell you what I'd liked to do. I'd like you to ride in to Dodge with me and we'll go to that trial together. We'll get up in front of Judge Brooking and I'll do everything I can to get you out of this. Now believe me, Pruit."

And Pruit had believed him. But things had gone very wrong in Dodge. Judge Brooking was sick in Wichita and Judge Henry had been sent in his place. Buck was aware that Matt had a history of disagreeing with Judge Henry. Since Buck was only a horse, he hadn't been present for the trial, but he'd kept his ears perked. He was plenty worried about the outcome. It hadn't been long before he'd heard the gossip going around town. Essentially, Pruit had refused to claim self-defense because he was too drunk to remember what happened and while Matt had been passionate in his defense of the young man, Judge Henry had been unmoved. At one point the Judge even threatened Matt with Contempt of Court. Pruit Dover was found guilty of murder and sentenced to hang.

Chester had eventually come down to the stable and saddled both him and Pruit's horse and led them up to the jail. Matt would be escorting Pruit to Hays City to hang. Buck always felt Matt's anguish, but this time, Buck had his own pain as well. Pruit had saved Matt's life out there on the prairie and risked his own doing it. To Buck, that made Pruit family.

It had been a somber quartet that left Dodge that sad morning, two horses and two men. Kitty had been standing outside the Long Branch as they passed. She had been pale and Buck could see tears gathering in her eyes. Her heartache was for Matt. Matt had nodded in silent acknowledgment of her presence, his Marshal façade firmly in place.

As they journeyed towards Hays City and Pruit's appointment with the hangman, Buck could feel the emotions roiling inside his rider. There was guilt, Buck knew that one well, anger, and overwhelming sadness, but there was also indecision. He knew Matt was trying to puzzle out what was the right thing to do. The honorable thing. His oath as a lawman and his principles as a man were surely at loggerheads.

Buck could almost feel Matt's body relax in the saddle when he reached resolution. Matt had chosen to follow his principles as a man. Buck had not thought Matt capable of turning his back on his oath and his badge and Buck knew it had cost him. The iconic Marshal purposefully let Pruit escape. Pruit would be a fugitive from the law, but in Matt's mind, not from justice. And Matt would be his accomplice. Buck was only a horse, but he thought, that Matt had made the only choice he could live with. But a man's plans are often destroyed by the merciless whims of fate, or the better executed plan of an enemy…or a friend. Pruit had hanged despite Matt's decision to save him.

Like Matt, Buck felt the loss deep in his heart. Truth was he felt like crying the day Pruit hanged, but horses don't cry. Matt had maintained iron control over his emotions, but Buck knew he was close to breaking. Matt had claimed Pruit's body and buried him on the open prairie. Matt and Buck had been the only mourners.

The ride back to Dodge had been bleak and miserable. The day they left for home was dark, cloudy and windy. It seemed to reflect his rider's mood. On the afternoon of the second day, it started to rain and it continued through the night until the middle of the afternoon the following day. Soaking sheets of rain left both horse and rider wet and cold. Then, as the clouds cleared, the temperatures plummeted.

It was dark when they arrived in Dodge and bitter cold. Matt had ignored the few men he passed as he rode down Front Street. Buck had been relieved to get into the comparative warmth of the stable. Matt quickly removed Buck's saddle and bridle and briskly dried him off before covering him with a wool blanket. Last he had given him water, grain and fresh hay. Buck was glad of the blanket and food for he was cold, hungry, and tired. But he worried when, instead of leaving to seek his own comfort, Matt had just seemed to collapse into himself. He had leaned against the door of the stall and slowly slid down till he was seated on the ground, dropping his head forward and resting it on his knees. He had remained there, seemingly oblivious to the bone chilling cold in the old stable.

Buck knew Matt needed to get somewhere warmer. He was exhausted, cold, and wet. Buck had been relieved to see Kitty slip into the stable and settle herself next to the disconsolate lawman. Buck knew she would care for him. She must have seen him ride into town and, when he didn't show up at the Long Branch, come to look for him. Buck watched as Matt raised his head and met her gaze. "They hanged Pruit, Kitty. I took him to Hays and they hanged him. "

Kitty had leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his arm. "I'm real sorry, Matt. I know… how much he meant to you. C'mon, let's go over to the Long Branch where it's warm. You're soaked and half frozen."

Matt dropped his head back to his knees. "There's more, Kitty."

"I'm listening, Matt." She reached up to touch his icy cheek. "If you want to talk."

Finally he mumbled, his words nearly lost. "I couldn't do it, Kitty."

Kitty sat next to him, holding him, giving him the comfort of her presence. And she waited.

Finally he lifted his head and again met her gaze. "That first night, when I was bringing him to Dodge for trial, I told Pruit I never sleep when I'm out on the trail. I told him and when I come up, I come up shooting. Tough talk, Kitty." Matt sighed deeply.

Buck knew that Matt was emotionally and physically spent and Buck knew that Kitty could see that, would want to get him in out of the cold. But he wasn't ready to move, wasn't really hearing her, was lost in his memories. Finally Kitty prompted, "Matt, what is it you couldn't do."

"I couldn't take him to Hays to hang. He couldn't have murdered that man and I owed him my life. I'd made up my mind."

Buck watched and Kitty waited. Buck knew that Matt's disjointed explanations weren't making much sense. He also knew that few people understood Matt the way this woman did. She knew his strengths and she knew his weaknesses. She would make sense of his ramblings eventually. Just now, Buck could see that she was freezing in the light wrap she had on. But Buck also knew that despite the cold, she would wait for Matt to find the words to help her understand. She knew that he needed to get whatever was bothering him said. That hard façade that the world saw was a little cracked right now, but given time, he'd pull himself back together and instead of sharing the burden he carried, he'd carry it alone and neither she, nor Buck, wanted that.

Matt was staring off in the distance. Finally, he started to speak again. "It's not right that a man should hang because the judge that should have heard the case came down with the ague. Such a little thing." He shifted his eyes to Kitty. "I took off my gun belt and threw it on the ground and walked away. Told Pruit I was real tired and then I laid down and went to sleep."

"Matt, did you intend for Pruit to escape?"

Matt fixed his eyes back on Kitty. "Yeah. I told you. I couldn't take him to Hays to hang."

"But, he didn't escape?"

"No." Matt turned away from Kitty, his eyes seemingly focused on nothing.

Kitty reached up and turned his head back to face her. His words had been so flat, emotionless almost. But his eyes were filled with anguish. Kitty wanted to offer comfort. "Matt, you tried."

Matt gave her a humorless smile. "I tried even harder. That morning, when I found him still there, I told him to get on his horse and ride. He still wouldn't go. Told me, I'd lose my badge. Maybe even go to jail. I was hurting… inside. I told him… I couldn't take him in. Turned my back and demanded he ride and finally he did. Then I started back for Dodge."

Buck could see that Matt's focus seemed to be improving and that he was more coherent. He could see that Kitty had also noticed. "Matt, are you telling me now that Pruit didn't hang? That you never took him to Hays?"

He paused, took a deep breath. "I swore an oath when I put this badge on. I just couldn't keep to it on this. Figured when I got back to Dodge, I'd send in my resignation along with a report on what happened, what I did."

Visibly frightened, Kitty had gripped his shoulders and shaken him. "Matt listen to me, you can't do that. They'll send you to prison."

"Kitty, I would have to own up. I've been a lawman for too long to go against the law… leastwise without paying. Good chance I would have gotten probation. Maybe a year, two at most. They wouldn't hang me like…"

"It won't matter, Matt," interjected Kitty, anger sparking in her eyes. "One year, or one hundred years. For you, it's all the same. You know that. You'll be dead the first week."

Somehow, Kitty's fear and anger broke through his haze. Matt scrubbed his face with his hands and climbed stiffly to his feet. Kitty joined him, glad to be off the cold ground. "Kitty, I'm not going to prison. Pruit came back. Pruit told me that he didn't want to spend his life runnin and hidin, runnin and hidin."

Matt's eyes hardened. "Those were my words, Kitty. The words I used when I explained to him why he needed to come to Dodge and stand trial. I knew he was lying. I pointed out that he knew that's how it would be when he rode out that morning, but he'd gone. Not only that, I could see that it had always been his plan to catch up with me again. I just couldn't understand why, so I asked him."

Matt reached out, grasping Kitty's shoulders. "He told me he knew that saving my life left him pretty heavy on my conscience." Matt nodded his head. "He was sure right about that. He said he didn't want me ruining my life over it. Told me, I'd let him go. So, he said, 'your debt's been paid.' Like I told ya. I took him to Hays and they hung him."

"Matt…"

Matt interrupted, "Kitty, he saved my life, my reputation, my badge, and he tried to make me think I'd paid my debt. He didn't want me carrying him on my conscience. All I could do for him was make sure he had a last meal, a shave, and a haircut. That's all he asked for." Matt scoffed, "And I held his hat for him while they hung him."

Matt paused and Buck could see he was replaying those last moments in his head. "There was a deputy. He was an insensitive lout. He kept pushing me. Treated Pruit like an animal. Then, when we were standing in the shadow of the gallows, he tried to tie Pruit's hands. Pruit didn't want his hands tied. That deputy tried to force it. I was so angry and it all just bubbled up inside me. I backhanded him across the boardwalk. I did that for Pruit… and for me. I… I couldn't let them tie him."

Kitty tried to wriggle free of Matt's grip on her shoulders, move closer, offer comfort. But he held her still as he continued, almost as if he were in a trance. "There's one more thing about that Kitty. When I picked Pruit up from the Sheriff in Elkader, he had Pruit's wrists shackled. I don't like to see a man like that Kitty. I don't use irons unless I think I can't handle a man. So I took them off. When he saved my life out on the prairie, I couldn't understand why he didn't ride off and leave me to die. I pointed it out to him. 'You could've ridden off, forgotten all about it.'"

"He responded, 'You could've tied me up for this ride too. I could have rode off all right, but I'd a hadda hard time forgetting about it.'"

"Seemed somehow like we'd come full circle. I won't ever be forgetting him. That's for certain."

With those words, Kitty finally wriggled free of Matt's grip and wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the bone-chilling wetness of him, just wanting to hold him. He pulled her closer returning the tight hug, needing the comfort. "Kitty you're freezing, your skin feels like ice and I'm dripping all over you. I'm so sorry. What was I thinking keeping you out here like this?"

He quickly pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her small form, shivering slightly as the frigid air bit into his skin even more deeply through his thin damp shirt. The huge coat dwarfed her covering her nearly to her knees and the sleeves hanging far below her hands.

"Matt, this coat is soaking wet."

"I know, Kitty, but it's warm wet."

She raised her eyebrow and gave him a soft smile. "That's a matter of opinion, Cowboy. C'mon, let's get over to the Long Branch. I got some Napoleon Brandy and a big warm bed. Maybe we could share them."

"Kitty, I don't remember the last time I was warm." Buck watched as Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she wrapped her arm around his waist and arm in arm they walked out of the stable. Buck knew that Matt would be all right. He was with Kitty. But Buck also knew that Matt would carry the weight of Pruit Dover's hanging forever.

There was no doubt in Buck's mind that all those senseless deaths ate away at Matt's soul and hurt his heart. All Buck could do was see that he got home. He was only a horse. It was Kitty who made Matt whole again. Buck knew Kitty loved Matt without reservation and, if a woman like Kitty Russell loved him, even after the things he'd done and seen, Buck figured that went a long way to showing Matt that he was a good man. Yup, Buck figured that Doc patched up Matt's body, but Kitty had the far more difficult job of patching up his heart and soul.

Buck reined in his meandering thoughts and focused back on the trail. It seemed like he and Matt had been traveling forever. One day ran into the next and he was tired of the endless rhythm of eat, sleep, and trot. He just wanted to be home. At least he knew that each step brought them a little closer and his horse sense told him they were nearly there.

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

"Clearly Animals know more than we think, and think a great deal more than we know."

Irene Pepperberg, _Alex & Me: How a Scientist and a Parrot Discovered a Hidden World of Animal Intelligence—and Formed a Deep Bond in the Process_

 _Horse Sense and Honor_

By GunShy

Chapter 6: Home

Finally, horse and rider arrived back in Kansas. The familiar surroundings were comforting and made them both even more anxious to finish the long journey. Oddly, Buck could feel Matt's tension mounting the closer they got to home. He wasn't surprised when about two days from home, Matt chose to push on late into the night before stopping. Buck figured he wanted to make it home the next day, didn't want to spend another night on the trail. He also couldn't miss Matt's uncharacteristic edginess. Matt was not a man who engaged in wasted motion, but Buck could tell he was agonizing over something. Even after he settled in for the night, he continued to fidget, not quieting until near morning. Buck was not surprised that despite the short rest, Matt was up and ready to go before daybreak.

They rode steadily through the day, finally coming to the small grove of trees where they had camped the first night out. It was late afternoon. Matt pulled Buck to a halt. And, Buck thought, rather weirdly, decided he would wash and shave. Buck didn't really mind the delay although he did figure Matt could have waited to get back to Dodge to clean up. They were so close to home and Buck was looking forward to the comfort of his stall. But, Buck was a horse who tried to look on the positive side of things so he took pleasure in enjoying the unusually luxuriant grass for grazing while he waited. As he chomped on the delicious grass, he watched as Matt pulled off his filthy shirt and, despite the coldness of the day, tried to sluice the trail dust and sweat from his hair, face, and upper body. Buck tried not to be judgmental regarding Matt's choices, but choosing to wash up now seemed just a bit foolish considering the chilly temperature. Matt was now shivering, covered with goose bumps, and having very little luck ridding himself of the stubborn filth that covered him. He was actually starting to look a little muddy.

Finally, seeming to recognize his lack of success, Matt quickly pulled off his boots and pants. Completely naked, he took a deep breath, and jumped into the frigid water. Buck snorted and nodded his head in amusement as the normally stoic Marshal popped to the surface gasping in shock and uttered a series of very unMatt-like expletives. Why Buck had heard less complaining from the man when he'd been shot. Matt rubbed himself as clean as possible in the shortest amount of time possible and then clambered back up on the bank. He quickly pulled on his pants, boots, and a spare shirt, which was significantly cleaner than the one he had been wearing. Even more importantly, it had no bloodstains or bullet holes.

Buck was, as always, fascinated that under his clothes, Matt's body was nearly bare with only a light dusting of fur here and there. No wonder he had to cover himself with clothes. Without them the summer sun would burn his hide and the winter snows freeze it. Buck thought he sure was lucky to be a horse and have a good protective covering of fur over his entire body. And not only that, his coat naturally thickened to keep him warm during the cold Kansas winters. Why Matt even had to have special clothes for the cold. Yeah, being a horse was a lot simpler.

Buck did guess he might be a little jealous of that yellow slicker Matt had. His fur didn't do a very good job of keeping him dry. Of course he had noticed that Matt's slicker didn't always do that great of a job keeping Matt dry either. And, of course, if Matt forgot his slicker, it wasn't of any use at all. Really, the best place to be when it was raining was in a stall. Buck had found, however, that it was not all that unusual for Matt to decide he had to go somewhere in the middle of a downpour and, of course, he expected Buck to take him. Understanding humans was not easy.

Yes indeed, humans could be very eccentric and Buck found their eccentricities endlessly amusing and Buck couldn't think of amusing things his human had done without thinking of Pickaxe. In the beginning, the situation had looked quite dire, but in retrospect, Buck found the whole escapade quite comical. Why a horse couldn't begin to think up the trouble humans got themselves into.

He and Matt were coming back from Hays City and had stopped by the jail when Matt had seen Doc heading in there with his bag. Buck was standing at the hitching rail peacefully waiting to get taken down to the stable after the unexpected stop. He'd peeked in the window and it looked like Doc was bandaging up Festus' ankle. That's when he heard a clearly disturbed Marshal shouting, "Pickaxe, you mean to say, you let her go to Pickaxe alone?" Buck's ears perked right up. Maybe this stop at the jail wasn't going to be so boring after all. He was pretty sure he'd never heard Matt bellowing like that before. There was no question in Buck's mind who the her he was talking about was.

A slightly aggrieved Festus had responded, "Well Golly Bill, Matthew, we tried to stop her, but she wasn't in no mood to listen."

Then Doc had goaded the already aggravated, Marshal. "Probably had a little something to do with her being a little bit upset with you."

Matt had defensively responded, "Well she didn't have any reason to be upset with me." Now Buck didn't know exactly what was going on here yet, but he just doubted the Marshal was as innocent as he claimed. And sure enough it hadn't taken Buck long to learn that Matt was supposed to take her to Pickaxe and he just couldn't seem to get around to doing it. The most recent excuse had been this latest trip to Hays. Tired of Matt's excuses, Kitty had gone by herself.

This information did nothing improve the Marshal's mood. He was clearly irate that, while he had been out of town, Festus and Doc had let her go alone. Buck got a little worried himself when Matt, whilst waving his fist in the air, had described Pickaxe as, "a town loaded with every lowdown renegade west of the Mississippi." He had added, "I've told her a hundred times she shouldn't have gone there."

"Yeah," Festus had interjected. "She said that too."

Festus' statement seemed to just make Matt even more upset that no one had gone with her.

Festus, clearly feeling unfairly persecuted, pointed out to the Marshal, "Now that you're here, you can go yourself."

Pickaxe thought Buck. Looked like he was going to Pickaxe.

Increasingly exasperated, Matt had said, "Yeah, well that's fine except I can't do it. I got a three-day stay of execution for Billy Colt. Now the Sheriff of Jetmore's bringing down the man that confessed."

Oops, thought Buck, he had jumped the gun. Looked like he wasn't going to Pickaxe after all. But he sure figured somebody was.

Doc had reasonably asked, "Well now, did you explain to Kitty that Billy Colt's life depended on you getting up to Hays City?"

"Well now," Matt had demanded. "What's that got to do with her running off like that?"

Buck could see Doc nodding his head wisely, "Oh, you didn't explain it?"

Buck thought to himself that after all these years, Matt really should be a little smarter when it came to dealing with women in general, and this woman in particular.

"Well, no, I didn't tell her. She wasn't in any mood to listen." Buck realized that Matt must really be in a state when he added, "Festus, you should have locked her up in a jail cell if you had to."

Festus had looked at the Marshal like he was more than a little crazy before defensively responding, "Oh foot, Matthew, I'd like to see you throw her in a jail cell."

Buck had to agree with Festus on that one. He wasn't sure the fiery redhead would ever forgive that transgression.

Buck really didn't think he had ever seen the usually imperturbable Marshal quite so perturbed.

Fortunately, Thad had arrived just then and Matt had dispatched him to Pickaxe posthaste. Matt's specific instructions had been, "I want you to go down to the stable, have Hank give you the fastest horse he's got. I want you in Pickaxe by tomorrow afternoon. And as soon as you find her, I want you to get a letter on that stage saying everything's all right. "

Matt was trying to hustle him out the door when Doc stopped him. "Wait a minute, you've told him everything except why he's going and who he's gonna see."

Buck figured it was a sign of just how upset the Marshal was that he had left those important details out.

Matt had quickly clarified, "Oh yeah, look, Kitty's up there. Somebody's given her a goldmine. Now she's up there alone trying to prove claim on it. I want you to find her, stay with her until she's got the title transferred. Then get her out of there as fast as you can. And don't forget that letter."

Thad had barreled out of the jail and raced down to the stable as Buck had watched. Buck had then heard a very ill-tempered Marshal petulantly query, "Don't you have some patients to take care of, or maybe a sick cow or something?" Clearly Festus and Doc were not exactly in the Marshal's good graces just now.

Matt had taken Buck on down to the stable after that and Buck hadn't heard any more about Pickaxe for a while. Two stages had arrived and departed before Matt had come to the stable and saddled him up before leading him down to the jail. Worry was clear on the man's countenance, and Buck had a feeling that they were heading to Pickaxe after all. The letter from Thad must not have come.

He watched as Matt had quickly rushed into the jail and, while gathering his rifle and saddle bags, asked the Sheriff to take the prisoner to Hays. "Jack, you're gonna have to do me a favor if you will." Buck recognized the Sheriff from when he and his prisoner had dropped off the horses at the stable.

The Sheriff responded quickly and affirmatively. Of course the Marshal hadn't left him much room to refuse.

Matt's parting instructions were, "Get him up to Hays City. Tell the Sheriff up there to let Billy Colt loose. I'll be up to sign the papers as soon as I can."

Buck knew then that Matt was seriously worried. He wasn't one to ask another man to do his job. Matt was out of the jail in seconds, quickly attached the saddlebags and shoved the rifle in its boot, near vaulted into the saddle, and spurred Buck into a gallop as they raced out of town. Matt had pushed Buck hard, not stopping until they reached Pickaxe. Horse and man were exhausted.

Matt had gone directly into the claims office. Buck was pleased to be left directly in front of the window so he could see and hear everything. The conversation had started out peacefully with Matt introducing himself, "I'm a United States Marshal from Dodge City. I'm, looking for somebody, a woman, a Miss Kitty Russell."

The man had, in Buck's opinion, rather unhelpfully responded. "I ain't never heard of her."

Buck thought Matt had shown exceptional restraint when he clarified, "Well now, she has a claim around here in this territory. She would have had to come in and register it with you."

It was after the man's next response that things had really deteriorated. Buck figured the man must not have actually looked at the Marshal before he answered or maybe he was just a fool.

"Well look, Marshal, we're over the territory line here. I don't know how far your law reaches, but it seems to me that this aint official business. We don't have to talk about it, do we? We don't cotton much to lawmen around here."

Matt was worried beyond reason, tired, and short-tempered and Buck watched as that fellow just pushed him right over the edge. Matt charged around the counter and yanked that buffoon right out of his chair as he intimidatingly informed him, "Now look Mister, I've been riding for 36 hours and I don't feel like fooling around. Now where is she?"

Buck knew from previous observations that most men, when confronted by all 6'7" of this U.S. Marshal, told him everything he wanted to know, and this man was no exception. After a rather staccato conversation the Marshal had all the information the man could provide.

They were nearly to Kitty's claim when Matt had heard shots and urged Buck into a gallop. They rounded the bend to see a shack in flames, Thad lassoed and laying on the ground with a bullet wound in his arm, and Kitty wallowing in a mud hole. The three Gibbyjohns were cackling and celebrating their victory, but upon seeing the law had arrived, beat a hasty retreat. Matt had been just in time. Buck did have to say the man had a sense of timing.

Unfortunately for the Marshal, a very muddy and bedraggled Kitty had not been all that grateful when Matt pulled her out of the mud. As Buck remembered, her precise words had been, "Matt, if you say, 'I told you so,' I will never speak to you again!"

It had been an interesting trip back to Dodge. Thad had helpfully offered to drive Miss Kitty home in the wagon, suggesting that Matt might need to hurry back to manage things in Dodge. After all, Thad wouldn't have been in Pickaxe in the first place if Matt hadn't been so tied up with problems.

Kitty had thought that a fine solution. Buck had snorted in amusement when the Marshal had emphatically vetoed the suggestion, and, after a moment's consideration, pointed out that Thad really needed to get back to Dodge in a hurry to have Doc check out his gunshot wound. Kitty had been tight lipped, but couldn't argue with the need for Thad to get medical treatment.

Matt accompanied Kitty back to the Palace Hotel to clean up, change into dry clothes and pick up her luggage. A still irate Kitty had firmly stated that Matt should wait with the wagon. She would let him know when he could go up and bring down her luggage. The Marshal was definitely in hot water. Kitty was just plain mad at him. Buck knew her pride had been badly stung. Not only had she needed rescuing, but Matt had pulled her out of that filthy mud hole looking like a half-drowned cat. Still, Buck knew very well that Matt had spent hours in the saddle—Buck had after all been the one wearing the saddle—sacrificed sleep, and saved her and her gold so Buck still wasn't exactly sure why she was quite so angry with him. Humans were complicated, and Buck had decided he was just going to have to ruminate on Matt and Kitty's current state of relations.

Buck knew that Matt was accustomed to his lady's hot temper and was not surprised when the Marshal had good-naturedly seated himself in a chair by the door of that fine establishment and waited, just as instructed. Experience had taught the stoic Marshal that rewards came to those who were patient. He just needed to wait till Kitty's temper cooled down. Buck thought that could be a while.

Once Kitty had restored her appearance and Matt had retrieved and stowed her luggage, he graciously assisted her up into the wagon, and then climbed up and seated himself. He chose to sit a little closer to the center than necessary. She had huffed and moved over to the far side of the seat shooting him a look that unequivocally let him know that no advances on his part would be welcome. Matt had given her his most charming smile, clicked the reins and off towards Dodge they went.

Buck was enjoying the interaction immensely although trailing a wagon was not his favorite way to travel. It was dusty and, he always felt, a little demeaning, but on the positive side, he didn't have to carry anything. Not for the first time Buck couldn't help but think that Matt had himself one handful of a woman. That red hair should have given him warning, but he was attracted to her like a thirsty horse to water.

Kitty maintained her stiff posture and distance thoughout the day reminding the Marshal at one point that she was not speaking to him. Buck knew the Marshal had been smart enough to not actually say, "I told you so," but that smirk on his face had been more than enough to land him in the doghouse. Buck figured Matt was reasonably comfortable in there as it was a place where Buck knew he spent quite a bit of time.

Eventually, with the sun low on the western horizon, it had been time to set up camp. Kitty had put together a simple meal while Matt had taken care of the horses. Dinner had been a silent affair. After all, Kitty was still not speaking to Matt. With dinner finished and everything stowed in place, Matt had pulled out his bedroll and searched the area for a place that looked soft and had no rocks or roots. He had kicked up the ground a little to break up the hard prairie. He had then carefully laid out his bedroll before calling out, "Kitty, I've got your bed all set up. How about you come get some sleep now? "

Kitty had pierced him with her snapping sapphire blue eyes and reminded him, "I'm still not speaking to you, Matt Dillon."

He had responded with his best boyish grin and said, "That's okay, Kitty. You don't have to talk to me until you're good and ready. I'm just glad you're safe from those greedy Gibbyjohns"

Buck had involuntarily snorted with amusement, but had quickly returned to his grass munching when Kitty had speared him with a suspicious look. He wasn't used to be on the receiving end of those blazing blue weapons. He was, however, also far too curious to cease his surreptitious surveillance of the two sparring humans. He would just try to be a little more circumspect. There was a piece to this puzzle he was missing.

He had watched as Kitty took Matt up on his offer and slipped into the cozy bed he had made for her. Buck could tell she was a little uncomfortable about where Matt was going to sleep, but she wasn't about to broach the subject since she still wasn't speaking to him.

Always a gentleman, Matt had hauled his saddle a respectable distance away and made it a comfortable pillow with the prairie as his bed. Buck knew he would be fine there. Many a night Matt had camped like this. But Buck would have taken bets that Matt wouldn't be sleeping there long.

Sure enough, not 15 minutes had passed before Buck heard an exasperated, "Oh Matt, I can't let you sleep like that. C'mon over here. I can share the bedroll. It is your bedroll after all."

Matt had sat up and innocently asked, "Are you sure? I don't mind sleeping over here at all."

"Get over here, Matt."

Not wishing to antagonize the already aggravated temperamental redhead, Matt had mumbled a simple, "Thank you." Then he quickly slipped under the blanket before she changed her mind.

She had then saucily reminded him, "I'm still not speaking to you. And keep your hands to yourself." Buck watched with some amusement as Kitty lay very straight being as careful as possible to not touch the grinning lawman. Then Buck had watched as the snarky grin on Matt's face was slowly replaced by a soft smile and the tough lawman watched over his beloved redhead as she fell asleep. Then he too slowly drifted off to sleep.

As the first rays of the morning sun began to peek into their campsite, Buck saw that the Marshal was awake, but Kitty still sound asleep, her head now resting on his chest, one arm wrapped possessively around his waist, and one leg draped over his leg. A small wet spot on his shirt was clear evidence she had drooled in her sleep. He could see that Matt was watching her sleep while being very still to avoid waking her.

As the sun rose a little higher in the sky, she began to stir. Buck watched Matt quickly close his eyes, feigning sleep. Kitty, realizing she had been snuggling with Matt, who she was most definitely still not speaking to, quickly shifted back to her side of the sleeping pallet. Matt stretched as if just waking and climbed to his feet, announcing that it was time to get on the trail.

Kitty also rose and Matt smiled over at her. "Morning Kitty, I hope you slept well.

Kitty rather acerbically responded, "I'm still not speaking to you, Matt."

"That's okay, Kitty. I'm just thankful you're safe." Buck didn't miss Matt smoothing his shirt and smiling at the small wet spot. Then, rather grimly, Matt had mumbled under his breath, "From the Gibbyjohns and all the other riffraff in Pickaxe"

It was at that precise moment that it clicked in Buck's mind. The missing piece he had been puzzling over was suddenly staring him in the face. Kitty being safe really was the only thing Matt cared about. Matt had spent some nerve-racking days worrying about his missing lady. He had been angry, distressed, and fearful and Buck clearly remembered what Doc had said about her going to Pickaxe: "Probably had a little something to do with her being a little bit upset with you."

Buck was certain that if Matt had just taken Kitty to Pickaxe like she had asked him, none of that fiasco would have happened. Kitty would have been safe with Matt, but he had ignored her wishes and inadvertently risked her safety. Matt was a man who took responsibility for his actions. If something had happened to Kitty, the blame would have been entirely his. Buck was well-aware that Matt Dillon was more willing to accept accountability and shoulder the guilt when something went wrong than any human he knew. He may have berated Doc and Festus for letting her go, but most of his anger had really been for himself. Yup, Buck figured Matt was probably beating himself up over his failure to be there for her, and thinking about how badly this could have ended. If Kitty wanted to punish him a little, Matt surely figured he deserved it.

Buck had been extremely pleased with himself for figuring that out. Puzzle solved, Buck went back to his grass chomping and human watching.

The two humans had quickly eaten and Matt had hitched up the team while Kitty put away the bedroll, provisions, and cooking utensils. Seeing she was ready to climb in the wagon, Matt had hurried over and lifted her up. Buck clearly saw his lips brushing her cheek and briefly nuzzling her neck as he settled her in the wagon. She had narrowed her eyes and given him a look that said, "keep your distance."

"It was an accident, Kitty, honest."

"Well, it had better have been, Mister, cause I'm still not speaking to you. Now just get this team moving and get us back to Dodge."

Buck couldn't miss the slight smile and the softness in her eyes that belied those words. Yeah, Matt might be guilty of not always being there when she wanted him, but he had come through when she really needed him. Buck could just see forgiveness coming Matt's way and he figured Matt saw it too.

Matt had just smiled, and snapped the reins.

While Buck had immensely enjoyed reminiscing about his trip to Pickaxe, he was very happy when his human _finally_ finished cleaning up and they again headed out. It was only a few hours later that the sun sank below the horizon, but Matt pushed on along the well-worn trail. It was obvious to Buck that Matt was determined to be home tonight and Buck, too, was anxious. The night was crystal clear and the stars shown brightly in the moonless sky. It was a beautiful night, but the air was far too chilly to be comfortable and Buck was really looking forward to his warm stall. He figured Matt was probably looking forward to getting in out of the cold even more than him considering the cold bath he had taken earlier and his lack of warm clothing. Yet, oddly, the closer to Dodge they came, the more Buck could feel Matt shifting around in the saddle—clearly the man was anxious about something. Then with only a few miles remaining, and despite the cold and his near exhaustion, Matt bafflingly pulled back on the reins slowing Buck down. Buck could feel his apprehension. It was almost as if Matt expected to be ambushed on the outskirts of town although everything seemed calm to Buck. Matt had been in such a big hurry to get home and now he was dawdling. Sometimes Matt's behavior was just inexplicable.

Finally, despite the slow pace, they came into town and headed down the near-deserted main street. It was late enough that even the saloons were closed up, the empty street softly lit by the flickering gaslights. Buck could feel Matt lean back in the saddle and look up. Then he heard a deep sigh of relief and Matt urged Buck to pick up the pace before pulling to a stop in front of the stable.

Hank had long since turned in for the night, so it fell to Matt to unsaddle Buck and make sure he had water, grain, and hay. Matt seemed determined to complete those chores in record time and was just finishing up when Buck's ears pricked up as he heard someone quietly enter the stable. A moment later, Matt realized that someone was behind him. He turned.

"Kitty," he breathed.

"Hey Cowboy, you been gone awhile. Did ja miss me?"

The expression on Matt's face and the response of certain other parts of his anatomy told her just how much he had missed her, "Kitty, you have no idea. And when I sent that telegram and didn't get an answer, I was so worried."

"Worried I ran off with a good looking traveling man?" Kitty asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," he responded with a grin.

"Oh Matt, we got the telegram, but you must have been gone by the time we sent a response. I've been keeping a light burning in the window for you every night."

"I know," mumbled the exhausted lawman as he reached for this woman who he had missed for every minute of his long journey.

"And don't you talk to me about worry, Matt Dillon. I shouldn't even be speaking to you. You were gone for months without a word."

"I know, " he responded as he crushed her against his chest and gave her a kiss that left no doubt at all about how much he had missed her, how worried he had been, and how much he loved her.

When he finally came up for air, all a very breathless Kitty could utter was, "Long Branch, now."

Buck nickered contentedly as the two humans made a rapid exit while he munched on his fresh hay. Adventuring was all right he figured and tomorrow he would enjoy regaling his stable mates with tales of his escapades with the daring Marshal Matt Dillon. But, there really was no place like home.

The End


End file.
